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The Wind in the Willows. Kenneth Grahame. Illustrated by David Roberts. 1907/1983. Simon & Schuster. 244 pages. [Source: Library]
I loved, loved, loved rereading The Wind in the Willows. I wasn't exactly planning on rereading it this year. I wasn't. But. I was looking for a good audio book to check out from the library. I saw Wind in the Willows on the shelf; I checked it out. I listened to it. That could have been the end of it. But, of course, it wasn't. I had to read it too. I just had to. I could no more resist rereading the book than Toad could resist driving an automobile.

What do I love about the book? Well, many things. I love the characters. I love, love, love the relationships between the characters. And the adventures!!! Plenty happens in this one! Does Toad deserve all that he gets? Maybe, maybe not. But Toad is, without a doubt, unforgettable!!!

The edition I read had illustrations from Ernest H. Shepard. The illustrations were great: some were in color, others were in black and white. They made a great book seem even greater.

Would I be hosting the Edwardian Reading Challenge if it wasn't for me "having" to read The Wind in the Willows right NOW? I'm not sure. But I'm so glad I followed my heart!!!

My favorite quote:

"What are we to do with him?" asked the Mole of the Water Rat.
"Nothing at all," replied the Rat firmly. "Because there is really nothing to be done. You see, I know him from old. He is now possessed. He has got a new craze, and it always takes him that way, in its first stage. He'll continue like that for days now, like an animal walking in a happy dream, quite useless for all practical purposes. Never mind him."

© 2015 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

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The Enchanted Castle. E. Nesbit. 1907. 291 pages. [Source: Bought]

I really enjoyed reading The Enchanted Castle by E. Nesbit. I had started this one at least twice before, but, I had never been in the right mood to properly appreciate this children's fantasy novel. I was in the right mood this time.

If you enjoy adventure fantasy novels, you'll probably enjoy spending time with Jerry, Jimmy, Cathy, and Mabel. Jerry, Jimmy, and Cathy are siblings. When these three first meet Mabel, they mistake her for a princess. At the time, they are having an adventure looking for an enchanted castle. So finding a princess within that castle makes complete sense! Mabel is actually the niece of the housekeeper. She confesses that a bit later on. That first meeting is magical enough! She shows them a secret room behind a paneled wall. This room is fabulous if you're looking for treasures. While in the room, the children find (and pick up) a ring. This ring is central to all their further adventures. And Mabel is their new best friend. She's always part of the group.

This one was a very fun read. It reminded me of why I love E. Nesbit in the first place. It wasn't a perfect novel. But flaws and all, it worked well enough for me. It was a joy to read of their adventures and misadventures. The ring gets them into trouble more often than it gets them out of trouble.

Favorite quotes:

“Go then, and be not more naughty than you must.”

“If we were in a book it would be an enchanted castle — certain to be,” said Kathleen. “It is an enchanted castle,” said Gerald in hollow tones. “But there aren’t any.” Jimmy was quite positive. “How do you know? Do you think there’s nothing in the world but what you’ve seen?” His scorn was crushing.

“I think magic went out when people began to have steam-engines,” Jimmy insisted, “and newspapers, and telephones and wireless telegraphing.” “Wireless is rather like magic when you come to think of it,” said Gerald. “Oh, that sort!” Jimmy’s contempt was deep. “Perhaps there’s given up being magic because people didn’t believe in it any more,” said Kathleen. “Well, don’t let’s spoil the show with any silly old not believing,” said Gerald with decision. “I’m going to believe in magic as hard as I can. This is an enchanted garden, and that’s an enchanted castle, and I’m jolly well going to explore.

“I am so hungry!” said Jimmy. “Why didn’t you say so before?” asked Gerald bitterly. “I wasn’t before.” “Then you can’t be now. You don’t get hungry all in a minute. What’s that?”

“Well, then — a detective.” “There’s got to be something to detect before you can begin detectiving,” said Mabel. “Detectives don’t always detect things,” said Jimmy, very truly. “If I couldn’t be any other kind I’d be a baffled detective. You could be one all right, and have no end of larks just the same. Why don’t you do it?” “It’s exactly what I am going to do,” said Gerald. “We’ll go round by the police-station and see what they’ve got in the way of crimes.” They did, and read the notices on the board outside. Two dogs had been lost, a purse, and a portfolio of papers “of no value to any but the owner.” Also Houghton Grange had been broken into and a quantity of silver plate stolen. “Twenty pounds reward offered for any information that may lead to the recovery of the missing property.”

You know pretty well what Beauty and the Beast would be like acted by four children who had spent the afternoon in arranging their costumes and so had left no time for rehearsing what they had to say. Yet it delighted them, and it charmed their audience. There is a curtain, thin as gossamer, clear as glass, strong as iron, that hangs for ever between the world of magic and the world that seems to us to be real. And when once people have found one of the little weak spots in that curtain which are marked by magic rings, and amulets, and the like, almost anything may happen.And what more can any play do, even Shakespeare’s?

© 2014 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

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In 1907, there was in the Long Beach public library, a “Guide for Female Librarians.” It stated ten simple rules for librarians to follow:

“Do not get married.

Do not leave town without Library Board permission.

Do not keep company with men.

Be home between the hours of 8pm and 6am.

Do not smoke or imbibe.

Do not loiter around ice cream shops.

Do not dress in bright colors.

Do not dye you hair.

Do not wear any dress more than 2” above the ankle.

Do not get into any carriage with any man except your father or brother.”[1]

While this seems absurd to us now, it was the rules of the times.

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Today we messed around with more shapes and colours. I had a bad day with work and almost didn't go, but I had fun painting and was really glad for the distraction.

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Here is a morning sketch of my friend Brittany and me, when we were about six. We pestered our neighbours a lot when we were little, usually with money-making schemes. About ten years, later, Brittany was interviewed on national television for being struck by lightening twice in one day.



Last night our watercolour tutor had a fever but came to teach anyway. I really hope I don't get sick. He had us doing some more colour wash combinations in imaginary lanscapes. It wasn't the best class we've had, and Turner I am not, but here's one of my pichers.

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Stuart and I very romantically made a pact not to do anything for Valentine's Day, not even cards. But I will probably buy one of the half-price box of chocolates on sale tomorrow and eat half of it in one sitting while wearing full Regency costume and lounging languidly within a National Trust property.

Oh, and I almost forgot!

This week in watercolour class, we painted a clothed model (for last week's disgruntled woman, who actually did turn up this week). The colourful drapery was fun, but there didn't seem to be enough time to do it justice. It was a little better than last week, I didn't just stand there wondering what to do, but painting this way with watercolour still feels so foreign to me. I used to do 'painterly' kind of work ages ago with oil paints, but I used to make the paint look so muddy that I think I went the other way, trying to contain everything within clean lines and using flat, solid colours. So now I'm trying to unlearn some of my mental rules.

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Last night watercolour class was killer. I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to be painting. The instructor came and painted for a bit on my paper and told me to strengthen the colours and use more of them. Which is funny, because art college people were always telling me to kick back the colours and limit my palette. I love this, it's making my brain hurt, which means it must be good for me, right?

Then the instructor asked if we would like a nude life model next week and one of the ladies freaked out about it. Except she didn't freak out the normal way, as in someone who doesn't approve of nudity. She made it sound like it was too hard to paint people, that she signed up for the class thinking we were just going to paint flowers and fruit and stuff. So I think we'll get a clothed model next week, but she's threatened not to come anyway and stormed off at the end of class. It was all a bit fraught so a few of us had to go to the pub for an hour after the session to calm our nerves.

I totally hate this painting, but I thought it might make other people feel better if they're also learning how to use watercolour.

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Okay, first some bragging!

Here are two pictures by my little sister, who's studying painting at the University of Washington. They're self portrait, master studies of Chuck Close, whose work we saw together when we were in Portland in October. Aren't they brilliant?




Geeking out about paint
I had my second watercolour class last night, and it was kind of simple, doing the colour wheel and mixing colours. But everyone had brought their own paints, and it was fascinating to compare the different makes of paint and see how they work. The tutor compared my student-quality Windsor & Newton Cotman paint with someone else's artist-quality Windsor & Newton, and everyone thought hers would be better. But my viridian was much more concentrated, while her red was much stronger. I guess you could say her viridian was ever-so-slightly more subtle, but I'm usually more worried if things scan well than if they look good hanging on the wall. I concluded that it's best to pick and choose, to buy student-quality viridian and artist-quality red. The person next to me had cheap WH Smith own-brand watercolours and they were kind of interesting because they almost looked like poster paint. They won't allow much subtlety, but they might be a nice hybrid between watercolour and gouache, for getting a vivid, flat look. My mother sent me some Daniel Smith watercolours, and they seem really lush. But I don't think they sell them in England and they're a bit pricier than Cotman student paints. I sort of mix them in when I need to give something a boost.



I just found a copy of Seth's sketchbook, Vernacular Drawings for the ridiculously low price of £3 at Gosh! Comics, by the British Museum. He gets a lovely flat retro look with what he calls his 'kindergarten paints':

These are the little blocks of poster paint given to small children. Strangely enough, I used these as a teenager when I didn't know anything about 'proper' art supplies. I started playing around with them again in 1992 (I think) and now I use them all the time.

I don't think I ever used blocks of poster paint when I was a kid, only bottles of poster paint and watercolour blocks. I must look out for some of these, they sound nice and cheap.

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I'm excited about my watercolour class tonight. Here's my attempt to do this scene in watercolour, using one colour, without a lot of line work. It's okay, but I can tell I have a lot to learn over the next couple months. Mostly I use watercolour just to 'fill in' lines, and I know it can do lots more than that.

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