I was chatting with one of my nephews at Sunday dinner, and he was describing a bit of the plot of the book he is currently reading: Cue For Treason written by English author Geoffrey Trease in 1940. I have never read it, but his account of it- two runaway children in Elizabethan England who end up working in theatre in London and meeting William Shakespeare- rather reminded me of a children's novel set in the same time period which I'm very fond of: Master Skylark, written by John Bennet in 1897.
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One of my nephew's birthdays is tomorrow so I looked through my fabric stash (yes, I have one; don't judge me) and found a bit of Superman fabric I had left over from something I'd made a few years ago. There was enough, when combined with some red and black cotton, to make a quilted cushion to which I added a book pocket in the back. After all, if you're going to settle down for a quick repose, you ought to have a cushion to rest your head upon and a book at hand as well. This is the book which I've tucked into the pocket: The Great Brain by John D. Fitzgerald. The Great Brain books are a series set in 1896-1898 Utah and are loosely based on the childhood of the author (who lived from 1906-1988). The books are narrated by John D. and center on his older brother Tom; John D. Fitzgerald's older brother was also named Tom. He omitted a couple of other siblings and changed the name of another brother from William to Sweyn and, as the books progress (there are seven in total- well, eight, but the last one was written after Fitzgerald's death using rough notes he had of an outline for it) a fictional adopted brother named Frankie is added to the family. I had- well, still have, to be honest- a number of these books from my childhood though they are considerably battered now, not only from my use and that of various siblings, but more recently from a new generation of nephews and nieces. As you can see, the cover of my copy of the first in the series is missing, victim of years of use and lost while out on loan a few years ago. Also, despite the library tag on the copy of #4, I didn't lift it from one; I got it in a sale of discards... the library probably had to make room for Heather Has Two Mommies, Three Therapists, and A Prescription Drug Addiction or whatever it's called. I also don't own a copy of the fifth- or eighth- book. I should mention that, in addition to the other attractions of the Great Brain books, they are illustrated by the always excellent Mercer Mayer, probably more well known for his Little Critter books. But his work on the illustrations in this series is just great. The only book which he didn't work on was the final one, not actually written by Fitzgerald. As mentioned, these stories are narrated by young John D. mostly about his older brother Tom who, possessing a Great Brain, at various times manages to hoodwink, outsmart, and even swindle not only his naive brother, but the rest of his family, other children in the town, and most of the townspeople as well. He occasionally also uses his powers for good instead of evil, but generally has an ulterior motive for doing so. The books are really funny, and also very relatable to anyone who grew up with an older sibling- or siblings- who delighted in putting one over on you. I speak from experience, being one of nine children. That being said, the books also deal with some very serious- even heavy- topics, albeit from a child's view and understanding- death, sickness, bullying, pain and loss. One story of this sort which particularly sticks in my memory from The Great Brain is that of Abie, the only Jewish man who lives in their little town, which is majority Mormon, with some Protestants and Catholics (the Fitzgeralds are Catholic). Though well liked enough- he runs a small shop- no one really knows him well. They are vaguely aware that his shop isn't doing great now that there are a lot of competitors in town, but no one really worries, because everyone knows that Jews have money; it's been rumoured for years that Abie has a strongbox full of gold coins. So no one raises the alarm when the elderly man steadily becomes frailer, even falling down in the street on a couple of occasions. Then one day he doesn't open his shop, and the concerned townspeople enter his living quarters to find him dead in his bed. To their horror, the doctor tells them that Abie starved to death; he was too proud to ask for help though his neighbours- of all religious stripes- would gladly have given it, and they never thought to ask because, subconsciously, it never occurred to them that a Jew could be poor. When I think about books like this from my childhood, and what frequently passes for "children's literature" today, I can only shake my head... and lend and give as many copies of the good stuff as I can. Related Posts:I recently sewed this cute little bunny rabbit to be used in an Easter display: As with Santa Claus, my family never really 'did' the Easter Bunny as children: he was just a fictional character in funny seasonal stories and songs. We did have an Easter LP which had belonged to our mother which we always listened to; the name escapes me, though I'm sure it's still at my parents' place unless one of my siblings has made off with it. Among the songs and stories on it was a dramatic retelling of Beatrix Potter's The Tale of Peter Rabbit, complete with songs and some really great sound effects. This is not that version, but simply Potter's delightful tale in its original form: A family in my sister's homeschool co op has started raising rabbits as a business, much to the delight of all the children who are loving the baby bunnies. I fear, however, that most of these are headed for the same fate as Peter Rabbit's father- pie. Related Posts:It's my niece's second birthday and I painted some wheeled wooden animals, then added hooks & eyes to make them into a pull toy for her. Of course I got a book to go with it: Speaking of farms, Old MacDonald had one. (How's that for a segue, eh?) The song Old MacDonald Had A Farm is a pretty old one, having its origins in- believe it or not- opera. In 1706 Thomas d'Urfey wrote an opera called The Kingdom of The Birds or Wonders of The Sun. This title doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, and by all accounts the opera was a bit of a dud. It did, however, contain a song entitled In The Fields In Frost and Snows which has some familiar phrasing in it: In the Fields in Frost and Snows, Watching late and early; There I keep my Father's Cows, There I Milk 'em Yearly: Booing here, Booing there, Here a Boo, there a Boo, every where a Boo, We defy all Care and Strife, In a Charming Country-Life. The song continues, changing animals in every verse as in the modern version of it, though the tune is different than the one we're all used to- and bad; the big problem with d'Urfey's operatic efforts was that he wrote the music as well as the lyrics and he was crap at it. It's possible that d'Urfey adapted an existing traditional song to In The Fields, but there're no references to it existing before this time so we'll have to let him claim it- which he did, putting a fuller version of it in his 1719 book Wit and Mirth, or Pills To Cure Melancholy (Vol. II). D'Urfey was apparently fond of giving his works multiple titles. Thomas d'Urfey was a noted 17th century English playwright, poet, and songster, despite his French sounding name. In actual fact, his surname was Durfey but he took to styling himself as d'Urfey, no doubt to lend credence to his rather dubious claim of being descended from French Huguenots. The truth was that ol' Tom was born in Devonshire and was employed as a lowly scribe until he took to writing plays for the theatre and turned out to have a talent for it (just not for composing music). In addition, he was such a personable and witty character that he quickly became a must-have at fashionable parties, even amongst the elite, eventually becoming pals with King Charles II and his younger brother, the future King James II. This probably accounts for him trying to jack up his ancestry a wee bit. A lot of his plays were political satires which invariably portrayed the monarchy in a good light; d'Urfey obviously knew on which side his bread was buttered. Most of the rest of his work was broad- and rather bawdy- humour (Jonathan Swift, his contemporary, wasn't a fan, referring to his work as "excrement"). It certainly wasn't high-minded; a lot of his Wit and Mirth- which takes up six volumes- would be unrepeatable in polite company; a couple titles of his are The Fart and The Lusty Young Smith, to give you an idea of his writing style. Much of the literary class (like Swift) despised his work, but the public loved his saucy humour; an exasperated Alexander Pope once acknowledged this in a letter: "Dares any Man speak against him who has given so many Men to eat? So may it be said of Mr. Durfey to his Detractors: What? Dares any one despise him, who has made so many Men drink? Alas, Sir! This is a Glory which neither you nor I must ever pretend to." D'urfey recognised this himself, commenting "The Town may damn me for a poet, but they sing my Songs for all that." So I suppose we should be grateful that Old MacDonald turned out to be so wholesome... it certainly could have gone in another direction entirely. In any case, d'Urfey's bucolic ditty gained wide circulation amongst the public, gradually being modified and sung differently in different regions of the British Isles over the course of a couple hundred years. In the 1880's, it was being sung in Manchester under the name The Farmyard Song; in 1906 it was documented as being sung as Father's Wood I-O. In 1908, folk song archivist Cecil Sharp collected a version of the song in London entitled The Farmyard which starts out: Up was I on my father's farm On a May day morning early; Feeding of my father's cows On a May day morning early, With a moo moo here and a moo moo there, Here a moo, there a moo, Here a pretty moo. Six pretty maids come and gang a-long o' me To the merry green fields of the farm-yard. In 1917, Frederick Thomas Nettleingham published a book of "soldiers' songs, marching melodies, and rude rhymes" entitled Tommy's Tunes which was meant to be given to the soldiers at the Front, to cheer and encourage them. It included a version of the song which was quite close to the one we sing today, except that the farmer was referred to as "Old Macdougal" instead of MacDonald. There was also a rather odd version kicking around the Ozark region of the States, recorded by a folk song collector in 1922 which went something like this: Old Missouri had a mule, he-hi-he-hi-ho, And on this mule there were two ears, he-hi-he-hi-ho. With a flip-flop here and a flip-flop there, And here a flop and there a flop and everywhere a flip-flop Old Missouri had a mule, he-hi-he-hi-ho. However it came about, one way or another we eventually ended up with the ubiquitous Old MacDonald Had A Farm, which every child has, I daresay, sung during their formative years. But not just children; the song has been performed at various times by such artists as Nat King Cole, Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, and- as unlikely as it may seem- Elvis Presley. The earliest recording of it in existence is from 1925, by the Sam Patterson Trio (Sam Patterson was a friend/collaborator with Scott Joplin). Here's that version: And here's the Elvis version, from his 1967 movie Double Trouble because heck, why not?
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