Today is the birthday of lexicographer, essayist, novelist, literary critic, and eighteenth century celebrity Samuel Johnson. He was born in 1709, so next year will mark the 300th anniversary of his birth. Commonly known as Dr. Johnson, he was the subject of James Boswell’s Life of Samuel Johnson, one of the most famous biographies ever written in the English language.

More about Dr. Johnson.

Quoth Samuel Johnson:

“I never desire to converse with a man who has written more than he has read.”

“A cucumber should be well sliced, and dressed with pepper and vinegar, and then thrown out, as good for nothing.”

A lady once asked him how he came to define pastern as the knee of a horse: instead of making an elaborate defence, as she expected, he at once answered, “Ignorance, Madam, pure ignorance.”

“A man ought to read just as inclination leads him; for what he reads as a task will do him little good.”

“Read over your compositions, and wherever you meet with a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out.”

“But if he does really think that there is no distinction between virtue and vice, why, Sir, when he leaves our houses let us count our spoons.”

“I hate a fellow whom pride or cowardice or laziness drives into a corner, and who does nothing when he is there but sit and growl. Let him come out as I do, and bark.”

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford.”

“I would rather be attacked than unnoticed. For the worst thing you can do to an author is to be silent as to his works.”
More quotations from Dr.Johnson.

Some of Dr. Johnson’s more creative definitions:

LEXICOGRAPHER: A writer of dictionaries, a harmless drudge.

NETWORK: Any thing reticulated or decussated, at equal distances, with interstices between the intersections.

OATS: A grain which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland supports the people.

PATRON: n. One who countenances, supports or protects. Commonly a wretch who supports with insolence, and is repaid in flattery.

Samuel Johnson, the critic:

Samuel Johnson on Lord Chesterfield: “This man I thought had been a Lord among wits; but, I find, he is only a wit among Lords!”

On Thomas Gray: “Sir, he was dull in company, dull in his closet, dull everywhere. He was dull in a new way and that made people think him great.”

On poet Christopher Smart: “Madness frequently discovers itself merely by unnecessary deviation from the usual modes of the world. My poor friend Smart showed the disturbance of his mind, by falling upon his knees, and saying his prayers in the street, or in any other unusual place. Now although, rationally speaking, it is greater madness not to pray at all, than to pray as Smart did, I am afraid there are so many who do not pray, that their understanding is not called in question.”

On John Milton: “Scarcely any man ever wrote so much and praised so few.”

Do you have something to say about Dr. Johnson, his life, or his writings? If so, please leave a link to your post in the linky or leave a comment or both.

Happy Birthday, Dr. Johnson!

Semicolon’s September: Celebrations, Links and Birthdays

I’m not much of a fan of short stories. They’re too short for me. Just as I get interested in the characters or the plot, the story is over. The End.

However, I will make an exception for the short stories and sketches of William Sydney Porter, nom de plume O Henry. The reason he thought he needed a pseudonym will be revealed later in the post, ala O Henry himself who was a great fan of the twist at the end of the story, the reveal that surprised the reader into laughing wryly and shaking his head gently.

Will Porter was born on September 11, 1862 in Greensboro, North Carolina. He came to Texas at the age of twenty in 1882 hoping to get rid of a persistent cough. (Texas used to be a haven for tubercular patients, not that Mr. Porter had tuberculosis. He may have thought he had.) He worked on a sheep ranch, then moved to Austin where he worked as a pharmacist, draftsman, bank teller, and then a journalist. He married a wife Athol, who did have tuberculosis, and the couple had two children, a son who died soon after birth and a daughter, Margaret.

He and Athol moved to Houston, and he wrote for the Houston Post (newspaper, now defunct). It was the bank teller thing that got him in trouble. The bank he had worked at in Austin was audited, and some money seemed to be missing. Mr. Porter was accused of embezzlement, andhis father in law posted bail. But William then did a very stupid thing. He ran away to New Orleans, then to Honduras. He was on the lam for about a year, but heard that his wife was dying back in Austin. So he returned, managed to stay with his wife and daughter until Athol died, and then he was sent to the penitentiary in Ohio to serve out a five year sentence. Why Ohio? I couldn’t find any reason. Maybe interstate banking or something?

Anyway, it was in prison that W.S. Porter really began writing prolifically and in prison that he decided that he needed a new name, a psuedonym. He became the New York short story writer, O Henry, and he became famous. Unfortunately he also became an alcoholic, and he died in 1910 of cirrhosis of the liver, penniless and alone.

Famous O Henry stories:

The Gift of the Magi: the classic Christmas story that O Henry called “the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house.”

The Ransom of Red Chief: In this story two would-be kidnappers are foiled and bamboozled by a ten year old brat. I read it out loud this evening to two of the urchins, but one fell asleep and the other one, Karate Kid, thought he could have outwitted those bungling kidnappers with more style and intelligence than the boy in the story.

The Last Leaf: A story about superstition, selfishness, and sacrifice. I’ve read it and enjoyed it although I could see the twist at the end coming halfway through.

The Last of the Troubadours: J. Frank Dobie called this story “the best range story in American fiction.” It’s about the feud between the sheep farmer and the cowman and about the actions of a quixotic troubadour.

The Furnished Room tells of a young man’s search for his runaway love, run away to sing on stage in the theaters and music halls of New York City.

So, do you have anything to say about the life or works of William Sydney Porter, aka O Henry? If so please add a link to your post in the linky below as we celebrate the short stories of O Henry on this day of his birth. He would probably find some irony in the fact that his birthday was also the anniversary of a rather momentous event in the same city that he lived in and wrote about.

The Book Den on O’Henry’s short stories.

Semicolon’s September: Celebrations, Links and Birthdays

“It seems to me,” said Sancho, “that the knights who did all these things were driven to them… but… why should you go crazy? What lady has rejected you…?
“That is exactly it,” replied Don Quixote, “that’s just how beautifully I’ve worked it all out – because for a knight errant to go crazy for good reason, how much is that worth? My idea is to become a lunatic for no reason at all…”

He is mad past recovery, but yet he has lucid intervals.”

Engineeer Husband has been reading Don Quixote aloud to the urchins, especially Karate Kid, in the evenings for some time now. KK says it’s a good story, but Don Quixote is being really stupid. I think they may have completed about a fourth of the book; they don’t read every night. At this rate, they ought to get to the end by the time KK gets to high school.

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra was born on this date in 1547.

William Mickle, b.1735. Scots poet. I can identify with the theme of this poem, There’s Nae Luck about the House. Engineer Husband doesn’t have to travel too often, but when he is gone, there’s no luck about the house at all.

Rise, lass, and mak a clean fire side,
Put on the muckle pot,
Gie little Kate her button gown,
And Jock his Sunday coat;
And mak their shoon as black as slaes,
Their hose as white as snaw,
It’s a’ to please my ain gudeman,
For he’s been lang awa.
For there’s nae luck about the house,
There’s nae luck at a’,
There’s little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman’s awa.

Sir WIlliam Jones, b. 1746. Philoligist and student of Indian history.

The Sanscrit language, whatever be its antiquity, is of a wonderful structure; more perfect than the Greek, more copious than the Latin, and more exquisitely refined than either, yet bearing to both of them a stronger affinity, both in the roots of verbs and the forms of grammar, than could possibly have been produced by accident; so strong indeed, that no philologer could examine them all three, without believing them to have spring from some common source, which, perhaps, no longer exists: there is a similar reason, though not quite so forcible, for supposing that both the Gothick and the Celtick, though blended with a very different idiom, had the same origin with the Sanscrit, and the old Persian might be added to this family, if this were the place for discussing any question concerning the antiquities of Persia.

Kate Douglas Wiggin, b. 1856, author and educator. She wrote Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm and The Birds’ Christmas Carol. Eldest Daughter always thought Rebecca compared rather unfavorably to L.M. Mongomery’s Anne of Green Gables, but I remember enjoying both books and both heroines.
Read Rebecca online.
Wiggin also wrote an autobiography, My Garden of Memories, and an adult novel, The Village Watchtower. I added both to The List last year, but I haven’t found copies of either one yet.

Edith Mary Pargeter, b. 1913. She wrote several fine historical fiction novels, including The Heaven Tree Trilogy about a thirteenth century family of British stonecarvers. Of course, Pargeter’s more famous series of books takes place a century before the Heaven Tree books, and she wrote them under a different name. If you’ve never read these and if you have a morbid taste for bones, you should go immediately to your nearest library and check one out. An excellent mystery.

Upton Sinclair, b. 1878, socialist author of The Jungle, a novel about the meat-packing industry that resulted in passage of The Pure Food and Drug Act (1906) and The Meat Inspection Act (1906)).

Upton Sinclair, letter of resignation from the Socialist Party (September, 1917)

I have lived in Germany and know its language and literature, and the spirit and ideals of its rulers. Having given many years to a study of American capitalism. I am not blind to the defects of my own country; but, in spite of these defects, I assert that the difference between the ruling class of Germany and that of America is the difference between the seventeenth century and the twentieth.

No question can be settled by force, my pacifist friends all say. And this in a country in which a civil war was fought and the question of slavery and secession settled! I can speak with especial certainty of this question, because all my ancestors were Southerners and fought on the rebel side; I myself am living testimony to the fact that force can and does settle questions – when it is used with intelligence.

In the same way I say if Germany be allowed to win this war – then we in America shall have to drop every other activity and devote the next twenty or thirty years to preparing for a last-ditch defence of the democratic principle.

I wonder what Sinclair would say about the war in Iraq were he alive today? Also, just out of curiousity, did anyone else become a vegetarian for a week or two after reading The Jungle in high school? I would strongly suggest that you NOT read Sinclair’s muckraking classic if you are squeamish or if you wish to remain comfortable in your meat-eating habits. Then again, if you want cheap motivation for a healthier diet . . .

Miska Petersham was born Petrezselyem Mikaly in Torokszentmiklos, Hungary, on September 20, 1888. He moved to London in 1911, to the United States in 1912. He married Maud Fuller, and the husband and wife team wrote and illustrated books for children. They are most famous for writing and illustrating The Rooster Crows, a book of American songs, rhymes, and games in the tradition of Mother Goose, which won the 1946 Caldecott Medal. Maud was the daughter of a Baptist minister, and she and her Hungarian husband also wrote and illustrated many retellings of Bible stories. However, my favorite of their books is the one pictured above, The Box With Red Wheels.

Carol Kendall, b. 1937. I loved The Gammage Cup by Carol Kendall (b. September 13, 1917) when I was a child, and I still remember images and ideas from it. For instance, I’ve always had a desire to paint my front door red or orange or yellow. And I sort of like being different–sometimes just for the sake of difference. The Gammage Cup was published in 1959. The story of five non-conformist Minnipins who become unlikely heroes probably hit a nerve in the non-conformist sixties, but it’s still a great story. The Periods, stodgy old conservatives with names such as Etc. and Geo., are wonderful parodies of those who are still caught up in the forms and have forgotten the meanings. And Muggles, Mingy, Gummy, Walter the Earl, and Curley Green, the Minnipins who don’t quite fit in and who paint their doors colors other than green, are wonderful examples of those pesky artistic/scientific types who live just outside the rules of polite society. One of them, Muggles I think, isn’t consciously a nonconformist nor an artist; she just gets caught up in the adventures of the others and finds out that she, too, has her own desires and dreams and talents.

Today is also the birthday of Else Holmelund Minarik, b. 1920, author of the Little Bear stories for beginning readers. What is your favorite Little Bear story? I really like A Kiss for Little Bear in which Little Bear’s grandmother gets some friends to deliver a kiss to Little Bear. The kiss unfortunately gets “all mixed-up” when a pair of lovestruck skunks keeps exchanging the kiss instead of delivering it, but everything turns out all right in the end. I also like the quote from Little Bear’s grandfather when Little Bear suggests that Grandfather might be tired and need a rest. “Me–tired? How can you make me tired? I’m never tired,” says Grandfather, just before he falls asleep in his lawn chair. Then, there’s the story of how Little Bear visits the moon and comes back in time for supper. Oh, yes, and I love Little Bear’s Friend about Little Bear’s friendship with Emily. Little Bear is about as fun and as profound as Frog and Toad. Who ever said that children’s books were boring or unchallenging? They have to be better than adult books so that we can enjoy reading them over and over again until they’re memorized.

Also born on this date in 1916 was Roald Dahl, author of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and James and the Giant Peach. To tell the truth, Dahl is too gross-out icky for my tastes, but lots of kids and adults love his books.

Finally, Mildred Taylor, b. 1943, is the author of Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry which won the Newbery Award in 1977. It’s the story of Cassie Logan, a black girl growing up in Mississippi in the 1930′ during the Great Depression.

Francoise Rene de Chateaubriand, b. 1768. Chateaubriand was the youngest of ten children, and he grew up to be a famous writer and gourmand. His most acclaimed work was called Mémoires d’Outre-Tombe, in English Memoirs from Beyond the Grave. I want to write a memoir from beyond the grave. It sounds so romantic!

Phoebe Cary, b. 1824, is an American poetess who seems to have made a career of re-writing other people’s poems in her own words. You can read some samples here.

Mary Renault (Mary Challans), b. 1905. The King Must Die and its sequel,The Bull from the Sea, tell the story of Theseus in fiction for adults. I like these books a lot, especially the first one. Theseus, as a pagan Greek king, in this book pre-figures Christ in some ways. He sacrifices himself to the will of the god Poseidon, for the sake of his people. These are good stories, but be warned that homosexual behavior is positively portrayed, although not described in detail.

Syd Hoff, b. 1912. Author of Danny and the Dinosaur and Sammy the Seal, classic easy readers.

Joan Aiken, b. 1924. The Wolves of Willoughby Chase by Ms. Aiken is creepy and perilous. It’s set in a sort of alternate Victorian England in which there are dangerous wolves everywhere, and everyone knows how to shoot them, even children. Add in a villainous governess, a duplicitous lawyer, an orphan sent to a Dickensian school, and a ship lost at sea, and you’ve got Gothic for children. Just scary enough to be fun, but everything works out in the end.