Light and Shadows in the Thirties

The boys sit in rows, their knobby knees emerging from beneath their shorts as they wait further instructions. This photograph from the 1930s speaks to the power of youth organizations, and it comes from the 1939 brochure America's Answer. The Boy Scouts were America's Answer to fascist and communist youth organizations, instilling American boys with a correct sense of patriotism. However, the Americans weren't the only ones creating propagandistic photographic books.

The second photograph in this blog post comes from a series of pamphlets published by anti-fascists in Barcelona during the Spanish Civil War (1946-1939). It's a rallying cry against fascist brutality, featuring two slain fighters. The image is a memento of its time, when both automobiles and horses cruised the streets of Barcelona. These are just two images from our latest exhibition, Light and Shadows in the Thirties, which presents the wide variety of photographic books during the 1930s.

Rocked by the economic crisis of the Great Depression, nations questioned previous orthodoxies and experimented with new systems, often selling their solutions or sentimentalizing their problems using the power of the photograph. Light and Shadows in the Thirties presents these photographic books as a vital medium in this turbulent and pivotal decade.

The exhibit was curated by Bay Lauris ByrneSim and will be on display in the Class of 1965 Galleries from February 16 to March 30, 2016.

The books featured in this post are: America's Answer. New York: Boy Scouts of America, 1939.  Rare Book HS3313.B69 1939. Visions de guerra i de reraguarda, Serie A. Barcelona: Editorial Forja, 1937. Rare Book DP269.15 .V57  v.1-8 Ap.1937-Oct.1937.

The Comic History of England

Whoever said history is a serious subject is a liar. Or, at least, that's probably what Gilbert à Beckett thought. He was the author of The Comic History of England, a three-volume 1840s text that pokes fun at Britain through the years, starting with the Druids and ending with the reign of King George II. To those who might feel offended at his humorous treatment of history, the author says in his introduction that "he has so much real respect for the great and good, that he is desirous of preventing the little and bad from continuing to claim admiration on false pretenses." Noble and funny -- sounds like this guy would have been a great dinner party guest!

The book is filled with illustrations reminiscent of political cartoons. Perhaps this shouldn't be surprising, given that à Beckett was a founding staff member at Punch magazine, which was the first publication to use the word "cartoon" in its modern sense. À Beckett pokes fun at uncouth druids and snooty nobles alike, skewering English class differences. Although, as you can see by his depiction of William the Conqueror, he's not above some good old-fashioned slapstick either!

Not an Anglophile? Never fear, à Beckett wrote more than just History of England -- Rauner has a copy of his The Comic History of Rome, too.

To see The Comic History of England, ask for Illus L516ac. For the The Comic History of Rome, Illus L516acr.

Posted for Emily Rutherford '16.

How the Grinch Stole Carnival

In 1981, Dartmouth paid homage to one of its favorite alums with the Winter Carnival theme “Hanover Hears a Who.” It’s not the only time we’ve done it, “How the Grinch Stole Carnival,” 1992 was also inspired by Geisel, as was one of the most famous themes “Oh, the Places it Snows,” which commemorated what would have been the doctor’s 100th birthday. Dr. Seuss’s books take up nearly an entire shelf in the Alumni section of the stacks, and among them is the Winter Carnival issue of the Jack-O-Lantern from 1981. The issue served as the official program for the celebrations, and the Jack-O got the honors because of Seuss’s legacy as editor-in-chief.

Theodore Geisel served as a cartoonist as well as the the Editor-in-Chief of the Jack-O during his time at Dartmouth, but was unfortunately forced to quit after he was punished by the administration, supposedly for having alcohol, which in 1925, was very much in violation of prohibition. How very Dartmouth. Unbeknownst to the administration, he continued his work for the magazine under the pen name Dr. Seuss, and a legend was born.

Aside from the four pages dedicated to the Winter Carnival council members, the official schedule, and the history of the event, the issue is chock-full of articles and jokes centered around their most famous  alum. The articles include “A critical analysis of the philosophy of Dr. Seuss,” a primer for Soviet children by “Dr. Seusslov,” “Green Eggs and Hamlet,” “Why the Grinch Stole Christmas” (“because of an unresolved homosexual Oedipal complex”) and “Horton hears the Who.”

The most relatable, however, is probably “How the Grinch Stole Carnival,” a very Seussian poem in rhythm and style about how the Grinch doesn’t like the preps in Prepville and how excited they are about the festivities. He proceeds to take all the paraphernalia from the frats and blows up Hanover.

The issue also includes a “Seussian” crossword with clues like “try your own name,” and “maybe I spelled it wrong.” The directions go from across and down to “across, but then sharply downward,” and “down, then slant off to the side, kinda.”

Although the issue might seem to be poking fun of the great illustrator and author, it’s done with respect. The letter from the editor is sincere and credits Seuss for all he has done. The issue ends with a picture of the Jack-O when Geisel was Editor-in-Chief with the caption “…And the legend lives on.” Plus, Seuss wasn’t easily offended or likely to take satire the wrong way. After all, he did illustrate a joke book titled Boners: Being a Collection of Schoolboy Wisdom, or Knowledge as it is Sometimes Written, Compiled from Classrooms and Examination Papers!

Posted for Maggie Baird '18

You Got a Perty Binding

"Vellucent" binding was invented by Cedric Chivers around the turn of the 20th century. It was touted as the best thing in the book arts since paper was invented - at least by Chivers and his associates. The fad lasted for a fairly brief period.

The "vellucent" process was patented by Chivers in 1898 and boils down to two essential steps. First the artist - typically one of the women employed by Chivers in his Bath, England, bindery - would paint or draw directly onto a thin subsurface. Additional decorative materials including mother of pearl or precious metals could also be applied at this time. Once complete, the entire piece would be covered in a transparent layer of vellum and then be attached to the boards as with any other book. The vellum protected the fragile underlying decorative layer, added a "warm" tone to the work and allowed for additional gold tooling as desired.

Much like the Rubaiyat we've mentioned before, the final product was all about visual appeal. The text was secondary and only served as inspiration for the scene depicted by the artist. Is it art, is it kitsch, is is pretty? You be the judge.

Ask for any or all of the following: Sine Illus B55hunf, Sine Illus B76cran, Sine Illus B76cric, Sine Illus B76essl, Sine Illus B76kee, Sine Illus B76ourv copy 1 & copy 2, Sine Illus B76vica, Sine Illus B766sin, Sine Illus D655nat, Sine Illus E55gar, Sine Illus H687imi, Sine Illus L443car, Sine Illus S865skeb & Sine Illus T56cran.

Spratt's Patent Cod Liver Oil Dog Cakes

Yummy! This advertisement for Spratt's Patent Cod Liver Oil Dog Cakes appears in one of the coolest items in our extensive Stefansson polar research collection: Fridtjof Nansen's Farthest North in its 1898 serialized parts (London: George Newnes). That a book on arctic exploration could be published and sold in the manner of a popular novel says loads about how the arctic had infected the public consciousness at the time. Nansen's voyage sparked romantic visions for an English audience eager for true life adventure in an ever shrinking world.

But it is the advertisements that really get you thinking. They offer the London middle-class reader an opportunity to vicariously explore the globe's unknown reaches through the magic of consumerism. Can't go to the arctic? Well, at least you treat your dogs the same biscuits Nansen fed to his dogs! It is reminiscent of all of the kids in the 1970s who had to have Tang over actual orange juice because Tang went to the moon.

To take a look ask for Stef G700 1893 .N22.

Misunderstood Youth

While preparing for a class on mysticism, a library school intern stumbled across a fascinating little book: Saint Joan of Arc by Mark Twain. Given the well-known propensity of the author for edgy humor, we expected to find a waggish re-interpretation of the Maid of Orléans, rife with clever barbs aimed at the French and any number of other hapless victims. Instead, Twain's attitude towards Joan of Arc might best be described as adulation. In the opening pages of this lovely little book, which seems to be an abridged children's version of his more weighty Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc, Twain reprints the latter work's preface and judges Joan's character as occupying "the loftiest place possible to human attainment, a loftier one that has been reached by any other mere mortal."

Although we did not realize it when we first examined this text, Twain's fascination with the Maid of Orléans has been characterized by at least one writer as "among the most baffling and least talked about enigmas in American literature." Although there is debate about when Twain first became enamored of the young girl, there is little argument over the serious and studious interest that the American author had in Joan. He has been described as one of the first writers to introduce her story to an English-speaking audience, nearly four hundred years after her death left her reputation shrouded in controversy.

Regardless of Twain's true motivation for his veneration of Joan (a worship that predated the French martyr's beatification by several decades), this work reveals an unfamiliar yet somehow pleasing contrast to the larger-than-life persona that Twain worked so hard to cultivate for so much of his career. Still, for all his apparent earnestness, Twain's preface concludes with a sentence more in keeping with his usual ironic tone: "And for all reward, the French King, whom she had crowned, stood supine and indifferent, while French priests took the noble child, the most innocent, the most lovely, the most adorable the ages have produced, and burned her alive at the stake." This edition, published in 1919, attempts in some small way to rebalance the scales by acknowledging her sainthood in its title, centuries after she was set aflame as a heretic.

To see Saint Joan of Arc, by Mark Twain, come to Rauner and ask for Rare DC103 .C63 1919.

Early Recycling?

John H. Gerould, a member of the class of 1890 and later professor in Biology and Genetics at Dartmouth, seemed to have a habit of writing on whatever piece of paper was nearest to him. While looking through his files for a lecture on eugenics, we realized how much information is hidden on the backs of his manuscripts.

Gerould wrote on departmental memos, personal letters, and book reviews. One of the most historically interesting  is a letter requesting donations to the American Red Cross during World War I. For a given lecture, Gerould might write on twenty different sheets, the same pen scrawling across four or five sizes, textures and colors of paper. One has to be especially carefully when looking through folders, because tiny pieces of paper could suddenly whoosh out!

One of my favorites is a page from a lecture on butterflies given in Manchester, New Hampshire. On the back is a letter from the biology faculty to President Hopkins (the one who said no to Dartmouth's shot at the Rose Bowl) requesting new facilities. In addition to the demands for more classroom and laboratory space, they specifically ask for a "Private toilet for instructors" (image above). Curious indeed!

So why did Gerould do this -- was it an early eco-friendly measure or a spendthrift habit, or was he really so distracted he just wrote on whatever was nearby?

The full finding aid for MS-1040 is online. The papers pictured this post come from Box 5, Folder 15 (Lecture at Manchester NH). Gerould's alumni file provides more context about his life and publications. In the employment section of his alumni form, he writes that he works for Dartmouth College, the purpose of which is "educating boys." Quite apt, even today.