Monday, 5 December 2011

Pollyanna




As ever with any book that you're a bit unsure about, I wasn't expecting to fall in love with Pollyanna. I should have known better! As with any enduring classic, Pollyanna has a lot to teach us about our modern lives from almost 100 years ago. Pollyanna was published in 1913, just before the start of the First World War. Of course it reflects a simpler time in some ways. Every house seems to have a porte-cochere. And Pollyanna spends much of her free time in the summer walking to visit various invalid neighbours to take them calf's foot jelly. 

Pollyanna like many famous children's book characters before her has been recently orphaned. She is looked after briefly by the local Ladies Aid Society, but is then sent to live with her Aunt Polly. Of course Aunt Polly is not thrilled to have her ordered life disturbed by the presence of an unruly child. Even if that child is very well mannered, and awfully glad. Pollyanna joins other plucky, optimistic orphans such as Heidi and Anne of Green Gables in changing the lives of their new carers. 

Miss Polly is introduced to us by her young maid Nancy on page 2:

She knew Miss Polly now as a stern, severe-faced woman who frowned if a knife clattered to the floor, or if a door banged- but who never thought to smile even when knives and doors were still. 

Pollyanna is an enthusiastic child with a sunny disposition who wants to get the most out of life. 

"Just breathing isn't living!"

She began playing her famous "glad game" with her minister father after a disappointment. Pollyanna's family were poor and reliant on missionary barrels sent to them with supplies. Once Pollyanna asked for a doll, but received crutches instead. Pollyanna's father invented the game with her to help counter her disappointment. The game was to find something about everything to be glad about. Of course Pollyanna could be glad that she didn't need the crutches. Rather a hollow feeling at that point I'm sure. 

Pollyanna makes the game her own, and shares it with the adults around her who all need it in some way. Apparently after the novel was released Glad Clubs were set up, and a Glad board game was on sale until the late 1960s. In some ways, Pollyanna seems to be a forerunner of more modern endeavours such as The Happiness Project. A very interesting audio exploration of Pollyanna from America's NPR reminds us that even though Pollyanna's message to rejoice may come from the Bible, and her minister father, gladness doesn't require religious faith.

Superb Fairy Wrens make me glad.


I hope modern girls are still reading Pollyanna. I hope some other modern adults get to read Pollyanna too, after all, it's not every character that enters the lexicon as a noun. But Pollyanna isn't a Pollyanna in the modern sense that the word has taken on. She is not "foolishly or blindly optimistic". Indeed, after Pollyanna has a serious accident she can't feel glad about anything. She becomes so distressed that she needs to be given a quieting powder! What was this mysterious quieting powder? Google is surprisingly circumspect, and keeping secrets hidden. Although I did find one reference to nutmeg being used in small doses to quieten irritable children. Perhaps Pollyanna was enjoying some nutmeg?

After her accident the townsfolk all come to help Pollyanna, to show her their gladness for the help she has given them. One particular passage appealed greatly, and stood out from the generally more sedate nature of the rest of the book.

Not long after Mrs Tarbell's visit the climax came. It came in the shape of a call from a certain young woman with unnaturally pink cheeks and abnormally yellow hair; a young woman who wore high heels and cheap jewellery; a young woman whom Miss Polly knew very well by reputation- but whom she was angrily amazed to meet beneath the roof of the Harrington homestead. 

Saturday, 3 December 2011

Rhododendron Garden Blackheath

Blackheath in the Blue Mountains (2 hours west of Sydney) is a lovely spot. They are very famous for their Rhodendron Garden, the town even holds a Rhododendron Festival each spring. Our recent visit was a few weeks after the festival, but the gardens were still worth visiting, even though they were past their best. 



Waratahs- our state flower





Hopefully next year we'll make it back when the garden is at it's peak. 

Saturday Snapshot, is a wonderful weekly meme from at home with books

Tuesday, 29 November 2011

Guest blogger!

Today is quite the Red Letter Day for me. I've risen to the exalted status of Guest Blogger!

I was So Very Excited recently when the opportunity came up to write a guest post for the wonderful and esteemed Whispering Gums. I loved the opportunity to showcase five of my favourite Aussie children's authors and illustrators. There are many more out there of course. There was no particular rhyme nor reason for my choices, just my love and admiration for their works.

My Guest Blogger post is here.

A celebratory Red message!

Sunday, 27 November 2011

Kidnapped, or Adventures with Porridge


It's been a number of months since I finished my first ever read of Robert Louis Stevenson's classic adventure story Kidnapped. My memory of the specifics is perhaps fading, but I have some very strong notions of the book that remain with me. 

Firstly, I found this a rather hard book to get through. I was surprised to read in his Dedication that RLS intended this as a book for boys to read at bed time.
This is no furniture for the scholar's library, but a book for the winter evening school-room when the tasks are over and the hour for bed draws near...
I'm not sure that that many boys could get through it any more. Some classics still seem modern and vibrant despite the passage of time, and differences of language. I found this quite hard going as an adult. It must be said that I don't have a vast knowledge of the politics of Scotland in 1751. I tried to learn some as I went along with my reading, but well, didn't get all that far. Perhaps child readers would just let that part of the story wash over, but politics is rather integral to the action. A lot is made of the warring between the Highlanders and the Lowlanders, about  the Whigs and Jacobites. Still, it is amazing to learn that in order to suppress the Highland clans it was "a sin to wear a tartan plaid, and a man may be cast into a gaol if he has but a kilt about his legs." A footnote informs us that the "relatively mild" Disarming Act of 1715 outlawed the possession of Highland dress or bagpipes upon pain of transportation. 

The story at it's heart is relatively simple. David Balfour, a poor young lad of 16, has been recently orphaned. He sets out from his village to find his only known relative, who turns out to be the miserly, and awful Ebenezer, who sells David into slavery and tricks him onto a ship heading for America. The ship famously sinks on the remote west coast of Scotland. David miraculously survives the shipwreck and heads back towards civilization.

I hold somewhat romantic notions of Scotland as my ancestral homeland. The Scotland RLS portrayed here is dank, drab, murderous and very cold, where the existence of a few hearty individuals is tenuously maintained only by their intake of porridge and drink in various forms- gills of brandy, wine and spirits, strong ale. 
Ye may keep a man from fighting but never from his bottle

Naturally it was not our modern day luxurious warm cooked porridge drizzled with maple syrup, and maybe some bananas or caramelised macadamias that they were eating. David, and his companion, the rebel Alan Breck, subsist on drammach as they journey through the isolated wilds of Western Scotland- an uncooked mixture of oatmeal and cold water. This sounds completely unappealing, and I'm sure it's no coincidence that Gaelic has a word drammag meaning foul mixture. 

Somewhat surprisingly a google search did not turn up an image of what I could take to be drammach. So I headed to the kitchen to make some myself. Normally for making porridge with heat I just use rolled oats. Clearly Scottish oatmeal looks more like this. 

Not knowing how to make drammach, and expecting not to like it, I put a little bit of oatmeal in a bowl, with a small amount of water. After a minute or two it looked like this

and tasted like bland, awful, texturally bad soap

it did get slightly better after about 10 minutes


a final taste after 20 minutes was all I could stand
 I have no idea how people could fight wars, farm their fields and live their lives fueled only on this stuff.

dogs like drammach!

Och aye, you've gotta love the Scots, and their love for all things porridge. They hold a World Porridge Championship each year, called the Golden Spurtle. A spurtle is the implement you need for making porridge, and here I've been making my porridge all along without a spurtle! Wonder if a spurtle would have helped my drammach? I suspect not. 

Another intriguing food reference is about buying butter in France.

'Ye see, David, he that was all his life so great a man, and come of the blood and bearing the name of kings, is now brought down to live in a French town like a poor and private person. He that had four hundred swords at his whistle, I have seen, with these eyes of mine, buying butter in the market-place, and taking it home in a kale-leaf. This is not only a pain but a disgrace to us of his family and clan.'

It's not clear to me whether the shame is that he is buying butter in the market, or taking it home wrapped in kale. The passage of time has made such distinctions impossible I think. I don't see much shame in either. I would certainly love to be buying butter in a French market place, and wouldn't care if I had to cart it away in kale or not. 



This post is linked to Weekend Cooking, a fabulous weekly meme at Beth Fish Reads.

Saturday, 26 November 2011

A Day Trip to Blackheath

We bought a new car a few weeks ago, and so last week we took it for a run up to the Blue Mountains (a lovely area 2 hours west of Sydney in the Great Dividing Range). I was doing some bizarre things with the camera that day (sometimes a weird button gets pushed whilst lugging about in my handbag, and it usually takes me a while to notice). Still even with dodgy photographic technique it's a beautiful spot and we had a lovely day. These photos are all at Govett's Leap, Grose Valley at Blackheath.

You can see why they're called the Blue Mountains



The sandstone that gives us our beautiful beaches

I know it's not in focus, but I still quite like this one- I think  it looks like an Albert Namatjira painting.

Saturday Snapshot, is a wonderful weekly meme from at home with books

Wednesday, 23 November 2011

Wondrous Words Wednesday 23/11/11



Wondrous Words Wednesday is a fabulous weekly meme hosted by Bermuda Onion, where we share new (to us) words that we’ve encountered in our weekly reading.  


Recently I read the rather fascinating The Pedant in the Kitchen. Julian Barnes always provides us with lots of new words, and this book was no exception. 

1. Matutinal. Adjective. 

But male culinary competence was clearly limited to such matutinal dabbling. 

Of, relating to, or occuring in the morning; early. 


Black swan and white geese enjoying a Tasmanian morning


2. Avuncular. Adjective.

I need an exact shopping list and an avuncular cookbook. 

i) Of or having to do with an uncle. 
ii) Regarded as a characteristic of an uncle, especially in benevolence or tolerance. 


3. Prelapsarian. Adjective.

It surprised him to discover that gardening, for all its air of prelapsarian serenity, is furiously competitive, frequently indulged in by the envious, the deceitful, the quietly criminal. 

Of or relating to the period before the fall of Adam and Eve. 

4. Midinette. Noun. 

And the more I browsed through the 300 recipes intended 'for the student, the midinette, for the clerk, for the artist, for lazy people, poets, men of action, dreamers and scientists', the more the book seemed an aromatic trifle very much of it's age. 

A Parisian seamstress or salesgirl in a clothes shop. 


Picture credit


5. Umber. Adjective

After decades of cooking dauphinois potatoes the same way, I was instantly converted to his version; sloppier, creamier, the surface an eruption of umber bubbles, it took me back years and kilometres. 

i) Of or relating to umber. 
ii) Having a brownish colour. 

Also a noun. Any natural brown earth containing ferric oxides and manganese oxides, used as pigment.  All definitions from The Free Dictionary. 


Picture credit

Saturday, 19 November 2011

Eurasian Coot

Another bird that I was really quite fascinated with in Tasmania recently was the rather ubiquitous Eurasian Coot (Fulica atra)






They have such weird feet







That let them do this:



Saturday Snapshot, is a wonderful weekly meme from at home with books