"The Ransom of Red Chief," by O. Henry

In which a perfectly honest kidnapping scheme is ruined by a most obstreperous child, and our narrator is glad to be accenting now in the American South.



William Sydney Porter, better known as O. Henry, published "The Ransom of Red Chief" in The Saturday Evening Post in 1907, and then in his short story collection Whirligigs in 1910. It's since become one of the most well-known short comic stories in American literature, and even if you haven't read it before you've surely seen homages to it countless times without even realizing it.

I mention this in the recording, but I'll repeat it here: be aware that this story contains not only a portrayal of an early 1900s child playacting a Native American in a very early-1900s way, but also contains an actual racial slur. You know the one. It's used in a quick and frankly baffling manner, but it's there.

Now illustrations! As far as I could tell, there aren't any "original" illustrations, or at least none that I could find, so I've got a pair here from the Boy Scouts Book of Stories, published for the Boy Scouts of America by D. Appleton and Company in 1920. The line-drawing "decoration" up at the top of the post headed the story and was done by Arthur D. Scott, and the fully-painted illustration here was by Walter Louderback.

15:13 - The Black Scout jumps on Bill's
back and digs his heels in his side.

A couple of quick notes from the text: at 2:12, we are told that the entire motivating factor behind the kidnapping is to acquire funds for a "town-lot scheme." Near as I can tell, this is essentially the old "got a bridge in Brooklyn to sell ya" con, where they sell plots of land they don't quite have the rights to. My guess is that the money was to actually purchase a single plot of land and then sell it multiple times to different people.

A moment later, our loquacious narrator uses the wonderful word "philoprogenitiveness," which is the condition of either producing many offspring or of loving one's offspring, either of which would rather work in context.

Last, around 11:02 Bill says that his favorite Bible character is King Herod. This presumably refers not to the King Herod who challenged Jesus to walk across his swimming pool, but rather his father, Herod the Great, who was the King of Judea who, in the Gospel of Matthew, heard that a new "king of the Jews" was to be born in Bethlehem and thus ordered the deaths of all young boys in and around Bethlehem.

And that's it for this short story interlude! Check back soon for the start of our next book.


If you would like to read along, the text can be found at Project Gutenberg. No reading ahead, though!

Around the World in Eighty Days, Chapters Thirty-Four to Thirty-Seven

In which Passepartout is given the opportunity of letting out some atrocious, but perhaps unpublished, words; Passepartout does not have repeated to him twice the order his master gives him; "Phileas Fogg" is again at a premium in the market; and it is proved that Phileas Fogg has gained nothing by making this tour of the world, unless it be happiness; and in which our narrator is not entirely sure he remembered the correct (terrible) voices for Phileas Fogg's Reform Club friends.



No notes for these last few short chapters, but we do have a final three illustrations:

8:45 - “He found in the letter box a note from the gas company.”

22::00 - "'Gentlemen, here I am!"

22:50 - "His hair disordered, hatless, running, running..."

As I mention in the recording, one does wonder how exactly our party gained a full day without noticing. I mean, no, the International Date Line didn't officially exist yet, but in practice that extra day should've shown up as soon as they landed in The United States and tried to catch one of their trains or boats a day before it departed. But maybe I'm just nitpicky.

And that's all for Around the World in Eighty Days, which has now taken its proper place upon the Bookshelf! Come back soon for a short story interlude, followed by a brand new book. Thanks for listening!


If you would like to read along, my translation by Stephen W. White can be found courtesy of Choptank Press on Google Books. If you prefer one of the other options, the George Towle translation can be found at Zvi Har’El’s Jules Verne Collection, which is also where I got the illustrations, or the more accurate but rather fusty Henry Frith translation can be found at Project Gutenberg. No reading ahead, though!

Around the World in Eighty Days, Chapters Thirty-One to Thirty-Three

In which the detective, Fix, takes seriously in charge Phileas Fogg's interests; Phileas Fogg engages in a direct struggle with ill luck; Phileas Fogg shows himself equal to circumstances; and in which our narrator cannot for the life of him decide on a regional accent for the sea captain, despite him being found in the narrator's own home state.



Onwards across the frozen prairies! We'll just skate -- ha, skate -- past most of the US in the last few of these eighty days. Almost there!

4:20 - "The travelers took their places and wrapped
themselves closely in their traveling cloaks."

8:28 - "Sometimes, also, prairie wolves... vied with the sledge in swiftness."

The prairie wolves mentioned above are not actually wolves at all, but are in fact coyotes. Oddly, I never really thought about coyotes being pack animals, despite being canids. I always pictured them as being solitary hunters, which I can probably blame entirely on Chuck Jones.*

I do apologize for my little confused interjection around 10:31 upon reading "Chicago, already risen from its ruins," which I originally read as being a really unnecessary slam on Chicago. As I figured out halfway through my own sentence, though, it is of course actually a reference to the Great Chicago Fire of October 1871, the year before the story takes place. This is the fire that has traditionally been blamed on Mrs. O'Leary's cow kicking over a lantern in her barn, though a newspaper reporter admitted that he made the whole story up. The exact cause of the fire remains unknown.

You may have caught at about 17:26 that Phileas Fogg briefly considers taking a balloon across the Atlantic, but immediately dismisses the idea as impracticable. Despite the fact that the hot-air balloon is indelibly associated with this story, featuring prominently in all adaptations and even appearing on book covers (including the one I'm using right now!), this is the only mention of hot-air balloons in the entire book.

27:47 - "'Pirate!' cried Andrew Speedy."

30:28 - "The crew displayed an incredible zeal."

33:12 - "'I arrest you in the name of the Queen!'"

And now, with Phileas Fogg back on English soil with mere hours to spare but taken into custody, we're barreling to our conclusion. Come back next time for the final installment!


If you would like to read along, my translation by Stephen W. White can be found courtesy of Choptank Press on Google Books. If you prefer one of the other options, the George Towle translation can be found at Zvi Har’El’s Jules Verne Collection, which is also where I got the illustrations, or the more accurate but rather fusty Henry Frith translation can be found at Project Gutenberg. No reading ahead, though!


*I find it hilarious that in the "Diet and hunting" section of that coyote Wikipedia article they note that "Though the coyote is the basis for the character of Wile E. Coyote... [in the cartoons] about the Road Runner, coyotes have not been known as yet to successfully attack greater roadrunners for prey." I mean, they've yet to do it successfully in the cartoons, either. [back]

Around the World in Eighty Days, Chapters Twenty-Nine and Thirty

In which certain incidents are related, only to be met with on the railroads of the United States; Phileas Fogg simply does his duty; and in which there is a depiction of Native Americans that our narrator supposes technically could have been worse, but, you know, still.



All right, we're gonna get back on track here. We're closing in on the end of the story, and we're suddenly getting some serious action (even if some of the "action," such as Passepartout's rescue, is kinda glossed over). Stay tuned to see if our heroes make it back in time!

No notes this time (it's handy now being in my native land!), but a surprising number of illustrations for only two chapters:

1:17 - "The railroad reached its highest point."

4:00 - "'I should play a diamond.'"

10:18 - "The Sioux entered the cars."

12:05 - "There, suspended by one hand between the baggage car and the tender..."

18:49 - "An enormous shadow, preceded by a lurid light, slowly advanced."

24:04 - "The Frenchman had knocked down three of them with his fist."

If you would like to read along, my translation by Stephen W. White can be found courtesy of Choptank Press on Google Books. If you prefer one of the other options, the George Towle translation can be found at Zvi Har’El’s Jules Verne Collection, which is also where I got the illustrations, or the more accurate but rather fusty Henry Frith translation can be found at Project Gutenberg. No reading ahead, though!

Around the World in Eighty Days, Chapters Twenty-Six to Twenty-Eight

In which our party takes the express train on the Pacific Railroad; Passepartout follows, with a speed of twenty miles an hour, a course of Mormon history; Passepartout could not succeed in making anyone listen to reason; and in which our narrator assures you that the depiction of Mormonism is at least more accurate than that in A Study in Scarlet, for real.



Hey hey! Sorry about the long unannounced break, which was not caused but was unfortunately prolonged by snow and malfunctioning internet (which actually seem to be independent of each other). Anyway, I'm back, and while updates may still be a bit patchy for a bit, I'm going to try as much as I can to get back on our regular schedule. Thanks for sticking with me, and onto the illustrations!

5:35 - "The sheets were clean and the pillows soft."

8:33 - "A herd of ten or twelve thousand blocked the railroad."

16:36 - "'And you, my brother.'"

17:07 - "A beautiful lake."

 Round about 17:29, mention is made of "Lake Asphaltite" in comparison to the Great Salt Lake of Utah. As context sort of makes clear, this refers to the super-salty Dead Sea. This is a version of its Greek name, Lake Asphaltites.

The "follies" referred to at 18:56 as one of the squarely-built things in America is not quite a snide a remark as it might seem, as a folly is an architectural term for a structure that is rather extravagantly ornamental, much more so than its actual function (if any) really calls for.

35:38 - "The bridge, already about to fall, went down
with a crash into the rapids of Medicine Bow."

Oh, those foolhardy Americans, always jumping trains over gorges!


If you would like to read along, my translation by Stephen W. White can be found courtesy of Choptank Press on Google Books. If you prefer one of the other options, the George Towle translation can be found at Zvi Har’El’s Jules Verne Collection, which is also where I got the illustrations, or the more accurate but rather fusty Henry Frith translation can be found at Project Gutenberg. No reading ahead, though!

Around the World in Eighty Days, Chapters Twenty-Three to Twenty-Five

In which Passepartout's nose is lengthened enormously; is accomplished the voyage across the Pacific Ocean; a slight glimpse of San Francisco is had--a political meeting; and after which our narrator, having reached American soil, can finally rest the "terrible accents" tag for a while, as long as Passepartout doesn't speak again, or Mrs. Aouda, or any of the four principals, really.



The illustrations get distributed rather oddly here, having three in Chapter 23 and none in Chapter 24. Maybe an uneventful ocean voyage was not high on the list to illustrate, while funny Japanese clothes and circus outfits were?

2:24 - Passepartout came out wrapped in an old Japanese robe.

The "god Tingou" that Batulcar's long-nosed performers purport to honor actually refers not to a specific god, but to mythical creatures called tengu from Japanese folk religion, which are also a type of god in Shintoism. They were originally considered as demons or bringers of war, portrayed as large birds of prey, but they eventually were viewed more as protective but unpredictable nature spirits. Their image was also anthropomorphized, and the bird beaks became the very long noses we see here in the circus.

The "Car of Juggernaut" that the long-nosed performers recreate in their human pyramid is a Hindu temple car, a large wooden chariot used to transport representations of Hindu gods during festivals. This specific one transported the Lord Jagannath during the festival of Ratha-Yatra, and its supposed reputation for accidentally crushing people under its wheels gave us, of course, the English word "juggernaut."

Now, why these performers are using mythical creatures from Japanese folklore, presented as a specific individual god, to recreate an image from a Hindu festival, is an open question. Perhaps Verne is making some statement about how American showmen such as Mr. Batulcar present foreign cultures.

Sure, let's go with that.

11:04 - The monument fell like a house of cards.

11:04 - Followed by Passepartout with his wings on his back.

23:28 - When he fell upon the wharf, the planks
of which were worm-eaten, he almost fell through.

31:11 - Fix, throwing himself in the way, received the blow in his place.

If you would like to read along, my translation by Stephen W. White can be found courtesy of Choptank Press on Google Books. If you prefer one of the other options, the George Towle translation can be found at Zvi Har’El’s Jules Verne Collection, which is also where I got the illustrations, or the more accurate but rather fusty Henry Frith translation can be found at Project Gutenberg. No reading ahead, though!

Around the World in Eighty Days, Chapters Twenty-One and Twenty-Two

In which the master of the Tanakadere runs great risk of losing a reward of two hundred pounds; Passepartout sees very well that, even at the Antipodes, it is prudent to have some money in one's pocket; and in which our narrator makes a big deal about something no one else would likely notice.



In putting together the previous post while at work on Monday, I seem to have left the copy of Around the World I've been reading from at my desk. Naturally, the last two days have been snow days in which I was unable to retrieve it. Now, if you remember all my palaver about translations from the first installment, you'll recall that said paperback contained the Stephen W. White translation, not the much more commonly found George Towle translation or the rather dated Henry Frith version, and that I was unable to find the White translation online. Now, obviously, I didn't want to record an installment using a different translation, so after a little more thorough searching I managed to find a Creative-Commons printing from Choptank Press on Google Books, which has no download option but does have a full online preview, so I used that. And that means that those reading along can now use the same edition I'm using! I'm sure this is exciting news to everyone.

These chapters were a little extra-long, so I only got through two of them this time around and thus we only have three illustrations:

2:43 - "The young woman seated aft, felt quite affected looking at the ocean."

10:22 - "The Tankadere was raised like a feather by the wind."

It was pretty much only when we join Passepartout in Yokohama that I think any notes are necessary. At around 21:40, reference is made to the nearby city of Jeddo being the former residence of the Tycoon. First, "Jeddo" is an archaic name for Edo, which itself is the former name of Tokyo. During the Tokugawa period in Japan that ended in 1868, Japan was technically ruled by an Emperor (the "Mikado" the text also refers to), but practically speaking was ruled by the military-feudal governors, or shoguns. In 1600, the shogun of the Tokugawa clan essentially took control of the Japanese government and set up its base of power in Edo, as opposed to Kyoto (formerly called and referred to in the text as "Miako"), where the Emperor was based. This is why Tokyo, and not Kyoto, is the current capital of Japan. Now, taikun (or "tycoon," and yes that's where that term comes from) was the term used to refer to the Tokugawa Shogun, essentially the ruler of the country, when dealing with foreign countries.

Look, I took a college class in the History of Modern Japan twelve years ago to fulfill a liberal arts core requirement, and I'm not letting that go to waste.

About thirty seconds later, which discussing the architecture of the city in a sentence with very strange and confusing syntax, reference is made to "Treaty Promontory," which refers to Honmoku-misaki, or "Treaty Point," which (near as I can tell) is the southern peninsula bounding the Yokohama harbor on the map here.

At 25:01, the text talks about women wearing "the national garment, the 'kirimon, a sort of dressing-gown." Now, the kirimon is one of the versions of the Government Seal of Japan, so I can only assume this is a mistaken reference to the kimono instead, which is clearly what they are describing. While I would definitely say Verne did his homework, I wouldn't necessarily take everything he describes (especially after being translated) as a perfectly accurate description of these foreign cultures.

Last, we hear about how it is sacrilege to kill beeves, which is just an archaic plural for "beef," which used to refer to cows themselves and not just the meat derived thereof.

27:23 - "Night came on. Passepartout returned to the native quarter."

If you would like to read along, I finally found my translation by Stephen W. White online by Choptank Press on Google Books. If you prefer one of the other options, the George Towle translation can be found at Zvi Har’El’s Jules Verne Collection, which is also where I got the illustrations, or the more accurate but rather fusty Henry Frith translation can be found at Project Gutenberg. No reading ahead, though!