Tales of Mystery and Imagination
I’ve been going through the 400-ish books on my various bookshelves, donating many in good shape to friends who have bought the bookstore uptown. My friend Claudia had stopped by, and I showed her one that I was keeping - the above-titled book of Edgar Allan Poe’s works, illustrated by Harry Clarke. I’d thought for years that the artist was Arthur Rackham; I think they were contemporaries. Claudia carves woodcuts, and Clarke’s plates were of particular interest to her.
My godmother, Louise Sell, who was a very sweet person, had given it to me - I think while I was still in high school, or perhaps even earlier. I didn’t know her well; I presume she was a friend of my mother’s…who’d possibly run out of siblings she could use for godparents by the time she had me at age 37.
The only book I’ve had longer than this one is Little Bear, which I was given when I was 5. I’d been reading since I was 3; not because I was a prodigy - there really wasn’t much to do during those long Wisconsin winters. We weren’t into sports much, although my closest sisters and I would share a single pair of skates, taking turns on the frozen Fox River down the street.
I thought that Tales of Mystery and Imagination was a dirty book, and wondered why my godmother gave it to me. I’m guessing she thought I’d grow into it. Going through it with Claudia, I came to the conclusion that it was because several of the illustrations include bare-breasted women. Now, these are not the kind of pictures meant to titillate (hehehe). They are true works of art. I doubt the book is worth much, having been banged around some in all the moves I’ve made since I left home at 17. Hmmm…just counted - I have moved 17 times…think I’ll stop now.
When Claudia opened the book on my kitchen table, she - appropriately enough - found a mystery: a pair of long, black tweezers with tiny pointed sharp ends. Not the kind of tweezers for plucking stray hairs, but apparently for picking up teensy tiny things. I’m flummoxed. Why were they inside that book? Who put them there? I hadn’t opened the book in years - when did they get stashed?
Anybody know what these are used for?
More mysteries to solve, all around my house and yard and brain.
xox
Lucy