THE GREAT PLAGUE OF LONDON

I can't believe that I have been reading Forever Amber.  I read it first at a tender age, and remember very little about it.  I suspect, however, that my mother did not know!

Anyway, I was encouraged to read it again by a comment from a physician who is as interested in medical history as I am.  He remarked that Kathleen Winsor's description of London during the great plague was the best lay account he had ever read.  I was not impolite enough to ask him what the devil a mature Kiwi male was doing reading a bodice-ripper (though I have often wished I did), but his observation stuck in my mind.  So, when I saw the recently re-issued paperback in the library, I decided to give it a go -- especially when I checked on Amazon.com and found it is doing well.

I suppose I got two-thirds of the way through the book before putting it aside, after a quick look at the ending.  It's the story of Amber, a country girl, who in the early years of the Restoration is seduced by the broodingly handsome Lord Carlton.  Despite his reluctance, she goes with him to London, where she falls in and out of a lot of beds (including that of Charles II), gets married several times, but never gives up on adoring him, vainly hoping he will make her his forever. 

Despite all that bed-hopping, there is no graphic sex.  Anyone who reads this for pornography is going to be gravely disappointed, as is anyone who expects Amber's character to develop at all.  She is utterly obnoxious, beautiful but shallow, selfish, bad-tempered, hysterical, and demanding, and despite what life throws at her, she never learns.  Instead of maturing, she merely ages.  Altogether, both cardboard and unconvincing.

But the background is amazing, filled with intriguing trifles of London and court life at the time.  Because of this (and the irritating protagonist), it reminded me a lot of Gone With the Wind.  In Margaret Mitchell's iconic work, the descriptions of medical care during the Civil War were riveting, and the same can be said -- oh yes indeed -- for Winsor's descriptions of the Great Plague of London.

  Day by day London was changing.

Gradually the vendors disappeared from the streets, and with them went the age-old cries which had run through the town for centuries.  Many shops had closed and the 'prentices no longer stood before their stalls, bawling out their wares to the passerby -- the shopkeepers were afraid of the customers, the customers were afraid of the shopkeepers ...

Searchers-of-the-dead walked in every street.  It was their duty to inspect the dead and to report to the parish-clerk the cause of death.  They were a group of old women, illiterate and dishonest as the nurses, forced to live apart from society during a time of sickness and to carry a white stick wherever they went so that others might know them ...

The town grew steadily quieter.  The busy shipping of the Thames lay still -- no ships might enter or leave the river -- and the noisy swearing impudent boatmen had all but disappeared.  Forty thousand dogs and two hundred thousand cats were slaughtered, for it was believe they were carriers of the sickness.  it was possible to hear, far up into the City, the roaring of the water between the starlings of London Bridge -- a noise that usually went unnoticed.  Only the bells continued to ring -- tolling, tolling, tolling for the dead.

NELSON WATTIE WINS RESIDENCY

Receiving the good news?

I happen to know that a biography of Kapiti poet and major New Zealand literary figure Alistair Te Ariki Campbell has been brewing for a long time now -- and it seems that at last this labor of love has a good chance of being completed.

Author, translator (to and from German), and opera singer Nelson Wattie has been awarded an 8-week stint at the Michael King Writers' Centre in Devonport, Auckland, next southern autumn, along with an $8,000 stipend.

Congratulations are also due to Aucklander Arthur Meek, who has a summer residency to work on a play called The Good Times.

POSTCARD FROM THE PAST

Manawatu collector of militaria, Trevor Richards, scooped a marvelous moment while leafing through a book he had bought for $2.

The Manawatu Standard reports that a postcard penned in 1945 fell out of the pages of the book, which was the story of Charles Upham, the famous Kiwi who was awarded the Victoria Cross not once, but twice.  Having bought the book, called  Mark of the Lion, at a second-hand sale in Waikanae, Mr Richards did not expect the postcard to be anything more than a bookmark -- until he read the message, and realized that it had been written by Upham's wife-to-be, Molly McTamney.

Captain Charles Upham was awarded his first VC for exceptional bravery in Crete, in 1941, and the second for his actions during the attack on Ruweisat Ridge in the Desert War, in 1942.

He and Miss McTamney had been engaged for seven years when the postcard was written in Paris, and sent to a Wellington woman.  They married shortly afterward, in Hampshire, in southern England.

James Bond retains e-rights

Philip Jones reports in The Times (Books, 3 November) that James Bond retains his image as a double agent. 

The estate of author Ian Fleming has decided to sell e-editions of the mega-selling books directly to the public, instead of through Penguin, the publisher of the paper versions.

They have every right to do this, they claim, as the original contracts were written before the e-book era, and so digital rights were not included.

Penguin are playing tough, and have informed Ian Fleming Publications (IFP) that they will not renew the licence to print the novels if the digital rights are not included.

They could be bluffing -- the novels still sell well, topping 100,000 sales each and every year.

Literary agents are watching with interest, as it could hail a big shift from the traditional publishing mode, with the big digital publishers, such as Amazon, directly competing with print editions in the marketplace.

Already, Amazon offers authors a 70% royalty for books published exclusively on Kindle.

Huge increase in e-book sales helps S&S turn a profit

Publisher's Lunch reports that though sales at Simon & Schuster declined by $12.7 million in their third quarter, or 5.5 percent, at $217.7 million, their profits rose by 10 percent, to $31.2 million.

So how did they do it?

Partly because of cost cutting measures, according to CEO Carolyn Reidy.

The other factor is electronic sales.  Reidy says "the strength of the ebook market is quite remarkable" and notes that a number of their continuing authors are seeing sales increases for print and ebook sales combined.

While gamely claiming that the changes in the book trade are "very healthy," Reidy does admit that adjusting to the rapid metamorphosis is not "without its concerns," mostly trying to work out "where the audience is" and how best to reach them.

 eBook sales for the year-to-date in the US comprise 7.1 percent of net sales, which is an increase of 173 percent over last year, and they are continuing to rise quarter over quarter.

THE BRANCEPETH STATION LIBRARY

Reminiscing about the back-story to this remarkable biography of a sheep station library, the author, Lydia Wevers, writes, "When I was first introduced to the Brancepth library, as a collection of dirty books with faded covers in beautiful glass cases on the ground floor of the university library, I thought it would become the subject of an elegant essay about past reading habits, a little excursion into the back waters of a Victorian library."

Instead, the Brancepeth Library became the subject of an elegantly written book, one that offers a great deal more than a "little excursion".  Reading on the Farm is a richly detailed analysis of not just the station library, but the readers, too.

I know this library myself, in its relocated incarnation.  Since 1966, when it was gifted to Victoria University of Wellington, its glass-fronted bookcases have stood in the corridor that leads to the Beaglehole reading room.  When waiting for the Beaglehole to open, or while taking a breather from a spell of intensive research, I have lingered at the cases, scanning the faded red spines for vaguely familiar titles, wondering why this collection of Victorian popular fiction is there.  It took Reading on the Farm to solve the mystery.

Lydia Wevers begins the biography of the library like a skilled playwright, setting the scene by describing Brancepeth (a sheep station in the Wairarapa, with a grand old homestead) as it is now and was then, and the history of the station libraries that loaned out books to employees who paid the annual subscription fee (one pound, not a small amount in those days). 

Then, in the following chapters, she describes the characters who people her book -- the major player being the station clerk, John Vaughan Miller -- and the conditions in which they read the books.  The last three chapters, which I found particularly fascinating, are lively studies of the books themselves, the men (and a few women) who read them, the marks of their passing -- inscriptions, pressed flowers, filthy fingerprints, spilled tea, scorch marks -- and their opinions of what they found there, often expressed in startlingly eloquent marginal comments.

The chief offender in the list of those who marked up the books was John Vaughan Miller.  He translated phrases in languages ranging from Greek to German, added instructive explanations for less intellectual future readers, highlighted passages he liked, corrected grammatical errors, underlined awful writing, and penned comments such as "Splendid!", all in ink.  As Lydia Wevers dryly comments (239), "Miller was always busy proving that he was a great and a wise reader".

Despite this, it is obvious that she was fascinated by this object of her research.  A one-time Admiralty clerk, and obviously well-educated, Miller was a man who had come down in the world, most probably because of the demon drink.  Of almost the same social status as his employers, yet just their humble clerk, he wrote to bolster his image of himself, penning letters to the editor, and what would today be called "op-eds".  A complex man indeed, deftly and gradually revealed, until he fairly strides off the page.  Quite apart from its other virtues, getting acquainted with John Vaughan Miller makes this book a rewarding read.

Something else I found fascinating about Reading on the Farm relates directly to all my previous posts on the future of e-books and digitisation.  By analysing this library and the people who read the books, the author comprehensively refutes the argument "that when you hold a book in your hand, all you hold is the paper".  Most, if not all, of the books in this collection of Victorian fiction have been digitised, most probably, but all you have on the screen of your e-reader or your computer is the text.  As Lydia Wevers demonstrates in entertaining detail, what you have lost is the eloquent evidence left behind by past readers upon the grimy, well handled pages.

Reading on the Farm should be required reading for all librarians.  It is also highly recommended to anyone interested in books, reading, or domestic life on a colonial farm.

The coolest little capital in the world

It's official.  Wellington is cool -- and not just because of the infamous southerly breezes.

Lonely Planet's Best in Travel 2011, subtitled The Best Trends, Desinations, Journeys & Experiences for the Upcoming Year, has named Wellington, New Zealand, one of its top cities.

For the first time, in this edition, Lonely Planet's top ten countries, regions and cities are ranked in order, and Wellington scores the fourth spot in the city category.  As the book suggests, this "most innovative and inspiring city might just be the 'Best Little Capital in the World'."

The writer of the rave review is Catherine Le Nevez, a lady of impeccable taste.  As she observed, locals love their city, "and get a kick out of helping visitors fall in love with it too."

Aha, so all those times I have directed cruise ship passengers to the Cable Car, my efforts have not been wasted, after all.

Bound Galleys of TUPAIA available at last

I have been extremely remiss about updating everyone on the progress of the publication of Tupaia, Captain Cook's Polynesian Navigator. 

Put it down to being distracted by creating indexes, dealing with editors, working out illustrations, and reading lots of lovely books.

BREAKING NEWS is that the bound galley proofs have finally arrived.  Of the Praeger edition, that is.

Book bloggers and book reviewers who would like to receive a copy, get in touch with me @ druettjo@yahoo.com.au

OR

My agent's publicist, Tooraj Kavoussi @

tkpublicrelations@fastmail.us

SOMALIA-BORN AUTHOR SHORTLISTED FOR MAJOR PRIZES

Considering what I have just posted (see directly below), the world is full of weird coincidences.

BREAKING NEWS is that a young Somali writer by the name of Nadifa Mohamed has been shortlisted for the 10,000-pound Guardian First Book Award. 

Her novel, Black Mamba Boy, is also shortlisted for the prestigious Dylan Thomas Prize, worth a cool 30,000 pounds.

Nadifa Mohamed spent her early years in Hargeisa, Somaliland, before moving to the United Kingdom.  Her book is evidently based on her physical and emotional relocation, because it describes a journey from her Somali homeland to Port Talbot, in Wales.

Other books in the Guardian shortlist of three novels and two non-fiction studies are Boxer, Beetle, by Ned Beauman, Your Presence is Requested at Suvanto, by Maile Chapman, Being Wrong: Adventures in the Margin of Error, by Kathryn Schulz, and Romantic Moderns, by Alexandra Harris.

The winners of both literary prizes will be announced on 1 December.

TOP BABY'S NAME

Well, I read the story in a newspaper, and people's names are often written down, but the topic of popular babies' names scarcely qualifies for this blog . . .

Nevertheless, I found it so thought-provoking that I thought I would share it with you.

The top choice when choosing a name for a baby boy born in England or Wales in 2009 was ...

Wait for it.

Mohammed.

It is not on the official list, however. This was because Mohammed can be spelled in twelve different ways (including, I suppose, Hamid, and Ahmed).  The two most common spellings, Mohammed and Muhammed, came in at 16th and 36th place, making a total of 7549 baby boys given one version or the other of the Prophet's name.  Statistics are statistics, however, so Oliver, given to 7364 children, topped the list for boys.

The demographers must be sitting up and taking notice, because surely it cannot be put down to fashion.

Otherwise the names, ranging from Harry to William, are sturdily Anglo-Saxon, perhaps with the exception of those fine Biblical monikers, Joshua and Daniel.

Olivia is still top choice for girls.