"The Black Cat," by Edgar Allan Poe

In which there is a descent into Murderous Madness, facilitated by the eponymous Black Cat, as well as the Demon "Alcohol," and in which our narrator affects a "Spooky Manner."



To the best of my knowledge, the works of Edgar Allan Poe don't have any definitive illustrations, like Alice or Sherlock, or even any "original" ones, like Anne, but he does have the advantage of over 160 years of influencing literary history, and by extension artists of many stripes. Here are a few quick public domain "Black Cat" illustrations/artworks I found:

 This etching was done by Alphonse Legros, a French artist who did a series of these etchings around 1861 to illustrate Charles Baudelaire's French translations of Poe's works.

 This one, done by English illustrator Aubrey Beardsley in 1901, is in a very different style, inspired more by Japanese woodcuts. It does, though, show essentially the same scene, the same that most people choose to illustrate from the story: the climactic reveal of the cat atop the head of the narrator's dead wife.

This painting, though, is inspired by the story but not intended to illustrate it. Gino Severini painted this in 1911, and one can make out important aspects of the story if you look closely enough. The cat, of course, both before and after eye-gouging, but also the glass filling with wine, showing what Poe intended be the real monster of the story.

(Although the guy with the axe is also kind of the monster.)


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

Anne of Green Gables, Chapters Thirty-Seven and Thirty-Eight

In which there is sadness, new plans, reconciliations, and the bend in the road.



Our final installment of Anne of Green Gables brings with it our final original illustration, as well:

25:26 - "'Come, I'm going to walk home with you.'"

Obviously destined to be together.

Anyways, Ms. Montgomery inserts a couple of other quotes. She makes reference to "loss in all familiar things," a reference to the poem "Snow-Bound: A Winter Idyl" by John Greenleaf Whittier, a long poem in which a family is trapped in the homestead for three days during a snowstorm, and pass the time by sharing stories. The quote comes, unsurprisingly, from a section about mourning a lost loved one.

The "Josiah Allen's wife" Anne refers to is Marietta Holley, a satirist from the last 1800s who appears to be largely forgotten today. The term "mejum" appears to come from Holley's novel called — oh dear — Sarah Among the Colored Folks. It seems to mean "medium," in context meaning "moderate" or "reasonable."

When the narration refers to Avonlea as "a haunt of ancient peace," it's quoting Tennyson again, this time his poem "The Palace of Art," supposedly referring to Gunby Hall, a country house in England allegedly haunted by the spirit of a former servant who was murdered sometime in the early 1700s by the hall's lord as he was running away with the lord's daughter (or maybe wife.) Nice and peaceful!

Finally, Anne's last line is from "Pippa Passes," a drama by Robert Browning. The whole quote goes:

"The year’s at the spring,

And day’s at the morn;

Morning’s at seven;

The hill-side’s dew-pearled;

The lark’s on the wing;

The snail’s on the thorn;

God’s in His heaven—

All’s right with the world!"

Which of course brings us to the end of the book. Thanks so much for listening.

(And like you didn't get at least a little choked up too. Shut up.)


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

Anne of Green Gables, Chapters Thirty-Four to Thirty-Six

In which Anne goes to Queens, where Josie Pye continues to be a jerk, Jane Andrews and Ruby Gillis are comforting, Gilbert Blythe is a surprisingly handsome rival; where Anne distinguishes herself and makes the Cuthberts proud before some ominous foreshadowing; and in which our narrator does not get just a little choked up at the end.

Oddly, I didn't find anything that I thought needed a note in this section, so let's take a look at our final cover. This one's from a relatively ordinary American cover from 2008, but I thought it was just very charming how well it showed Anne's big, exuberant smile and Matthew's shy reticence. It's interesting the patterns you notice, when looking through these covers. The most popular seem to be some variation of Anne waiting at the train station, or on that first drive back as with this one. Many of them show some generic scene of Anne enjoying the outdoors. A few have her looking out of the window, maybe showing one of the titular green gables. A couple show other specific scenes (though I... I don't actually remember that last one?) Oddly, none seem to show her and Marilla, which in my opinion is the real central relationship in the book.

Anyway, as you may be able to tell, the story is coming to a close, and the next episode will finish it off. And... that foreshadowing is there for a reason.


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

Anne of Green Gables, Chapters Thirty-One to Thirty-Three

In which Anne freaks out over the Entrance exam to Queen's Academy, does well enough on it, I suppose, then freaks out over a recitation at a concert, and does well enough at it, as well, I suppose.



In this extra-long installment (...sorry), we again get to see Ms. Montgomery's fondness for quoting within the narration, from sources not especially well-known today. The first time is while discussing the joys of learning, when she says "Hills peeped o'er hill and Alps on Alps arose." This is actually a past-tense paraphrase of a line from "An Essay on Criticism" by Alexander Pope, perhaps best-known for being the source of the phrase "A little knowledge is a dangerous thing." This, though, actually means rather the opposite of what many people think. The full couplet, which is from the same section of the essay as the line above, reads: "A little learning is a dang'rous thing; / Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring," where the Pierian Spring is the source of knowledge in Greek mythology. Pope then goes on to discuss how only learning a little "intoxicates" you, while learning a lot "sobers us again." So, it's not that knowledge is dangerous, it's a little knowledge that's dangerous. Learning more shows you how little you actually know, and just how much more there is to learn; as we look out over the mountains of knowledge, "Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise!"

 The next quote comes as Marilla is thinking -- to herself, of course -- about how nice Anne looks all gussied up, with that "One moonbeam from the forehead to the crown." This is from the Fourth Book of the poetic novel Aurora Leigh by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. It comes from what appears to be an insincere compliment imagined by the eponymous narrator: "No one parts / Her hair with such a silver line as you, / One moonbeam from the forehead to the crown!" So basically, a poetic way of referring to a part in someone's hair.

At the concert, Anne recites "The Maiden's Vow" by Carolina Oliphant, a surprisingly short and determinedly Scottish poem where a woman swears she'll never marry, as her only love died at sea. Very tragical.

Lastly, Diana tells Anne that a romantic-looking American artist behind her referred to Anne as having "Titian hair." Anne herself explains what that means, at least well enough for our purposes. My wife, who has studied more art history than I have, tells me that there's an easy mnemonic to help remember what kinds of things Titian painted, but she won't tell me what it is.

Oh and hey! We finally get to see the frontispiece illustration!

28:45 - "'There's something so stylish about you, Anne,' said Diana."

Not the most action-packed picture in the book, but lovely in its own right.

And by the way, I had an audience for the last little bit of the recording. See if you can spot evidence of her!


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

Anne of Green Gables, Chapters Twenty-Nine and Thirty

In which Anne goes on a Big City Adventure only to end up ruminating on the importance and joy of home, or something, following which Anne's educational future is discussed.



Right off the bat, we've got Anne reciting part of a poem now little-known among the general populace: "Marmion," by Sir Walter Scott. It's apparently about one Lord Marmion, a rather obscure figure even at the time, and his involvement in the hilariously-named Battle of Flodden Field between England and Scotland in 1513. I apologize for not quite managing to read all the way through "The stubborn spearsman still made good / Their dark impenetrable wood" without snickering. At least I didn't "stop in ecstasy," like Anne.

Then, of course, we find Anne getting caught reading Ben Hur instead of her lessons. Ben Hur is of course now most well-known for its spectacular movie productions, especially the 1959 version starring Moses. I will not be featuring it on "Rob Reads to You." The other book Anne was caught reading, The Lurid Mystery of the Haunted Hill, though, sadly seems to be fictional.

I've also determined that I love the phrase "meaner than second skimmings," presumably referring to skimming cream off the top of milk, and how little there is left the second time around. This is one I really want to work into daily conversation.

And, um, I think I may need to start keeping a running tally of voices I've done while reading these books, because come to the end-of-school-year scene I could not for the LIFE of me remember if we've heard Miss Stacy talk before or not. I don't think so? Pretty sure? If we have, and I did the voice real different this time around, it's 'cause she had a cold.

Finally we've got this installment's cover and... what the crap is this? It's all... sexy, and blonde -- I think it's mentioned once or twice, Anne has red hair -- and distinctly modern-day. Seems I'm not the only one to think this isn't such a great cover. In fact, I only found this because of all the outraged news articles. That's one of the things with public domain books, though. Anyone with a printing press can crank out a cheap paperback version, or even just an e-book version, and put it up for sale, regardless of how well they're presenting the material. It looks like this was some tiny, no-name publisher we're talking about, so it's not like one of the big publishing houses turned out this thing. And in fact, it looks like they've indirectly responded to the 400+ one-star reviews on Amazon, and have taken the cover down.


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

Anne of Green Gables, Chapters Twenty-Seven and Twenty-Eight

In which Anne is engaged in a sitcom plot, re: hair-dying, and becomes rather un-romantically stranded whilst pretending to be romantically dead, only to be rescued by a most unwelcome savior, coming as a surprise to precisely no one.



The poem that Anne and her friends are reenacting in Chapter 28 is "Lancelot and Elaine," from Idylls of the King by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. The short version is that Elaine of Astolat fell in love with Lancelot and died of a broken heart after he rejected her (because he was totally sweet on Arthur's queen, Guinevere. Um, spoilers?) Per her orders, her body is placed in a boat, holding a lily in one hand and a letter in the other, then floated down the Thames towards Camelot. Her body's discovered by King Arthur's folks, whereupon Lancelot reads the letter and feels all angsty. You may know her better as the Lady of Shalott, by which name Tennyson wrote not one, but TWO poems telling her story. Tennyson... really liked this one, I guess.

Oh, you'll also know her from that poster that friend of yours had in college:

Yup. You know the one. Maybe YOU were the friend that had it.

Less romanticized, we see Anne here clinging to the bridge pile being rescued by Gilbert:

21:38 - "He pulled her close to the pile and extended his hand."

Oh, and in case you were curious, that boat there in the picture is what they've been calling a dory. It's basically exactly what you see in your head when you think "rowboat." And... look. I haven't actually read the rest of the Avonlea series yet, but I know it follows Anne well into adulthood and picks up at one point with her own children (I have the rest of the series, and have read their backs, okay?) You can't possibly tell me that Gilbert's not gonna be her husband eventually after all this. Seriously.

Also, this time I get to apologize to Italians, and probably also to German Jews. It... it was a different time.


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

Anne of Green Gables, Chapters Twenty-Five and Twenty-Six

In which Matthew finally resolves the question of the puffed sleeves, about which our narrator had told you we hadn't heard the last, and Anne starts a club to teach the other girls how to imagination.



I was unfamiliar with the term "bootjack," which Matthew is self-consciously holding whilst hiding from the little girls, but now that I know what one is I totally want one. It's like the opposite of a shoehorn, which is incidentally one of my favorite words. I'd also never heard of the fabric "gloria" before, which is "a fabric of silk, cotton, nylon, or wool for umbrellas, dresses, etc., often with a filling of cotton warp and yarn of other fiber." Apparently it's shiny.

Our cover here comes from a 2008 Korean edition which... really looks like it should be for some other book, doesn't it? I mean, I can dig the pastelly watercolors, but I seriously think that if Anne -- or any other character in the novel, for that matter -- were to wear some sort of gauzy dress cut down to the solar plexus, Marilla might just burst a blood vessel. And the big floppy hat? And the choker? And the earrings? I mean, heck, it took Marilla twenty-five chapters and some not-so-slick subterfuge before she grudgingly allowed those puffed sleeves. I don't think she'd allow this outfit to exist in Avonlea, much less let Anne wear it.


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

Anne of Green Gables, Chapters Twenty-Two to Twenty-Four

In which Anne goes to tea with her latest kindred spirit, endangers her life and inflicts physical trauma on herself for inconsequential reasons, and then gets excited over a concert; and in which our narrator is glad that so few of the girls present at the party had speaking lines, for he can only come up with so many distinct little girl voices at one time.



Oh hey, we've come back around to one of the illustrations!

11:28 - "Balanced herself uprightly on that precarious footing."

Here, of course, we see Anne trying to walk across the ridgepole of the Barrys' roof on a dare from that hussy Josie Pyle. Note, of course, that they don't have an illustration showing her broken body amidst the wreckage of the Virginia creeper.

In these chapters, we hear Anne described as being "all spirit and fire and dew," which comes from the poem "Evelyn Hope" by Robert Browning. The whole line is "The good stars met in your horoscope, / Made you of spirit and fire and dew," and is actually on the title page of the book, which I did not notice when I started reading.* I can see how it can apply to Anne here, but you read the whole poem and it appears to be about the 48-year-old Browning hitting on the 16-year-old Evelyn Hope who just died, and it gets just a bit weird. We also hear of Anne reciting "Mary, Queen of Scots" by Henry Glassford Bell, which is much less creepy, being only about a beheading. It... really didn't occur to me that I'd be able to use the "dismemberment" tag in Anne of Green Gables, but I certainly won't turn down the opportunity.


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

*I also negelected to read the dedication, which is "To the memory of my Father and Mother."

Anne of Green Gables, Chapters Twenty and Twenty-One

In which Anne spooks herself silly and we learn the terror of "white things," then Anne meets yet another kindred spirit, whom she promptly tries to poison.



After the treatise I wrote last time on Canadian government and nineteenth-century poetry and stories, I only had to check out a couple of things this time around. "Tory" is just a nickname for the Conservative Party, like last time we found out that the Grits were the Liberals. Anne accidentally flavors her cake with anodyne liniment — "partly" your fault, Marilla? Really? You put medicine in a bottle labeled "vanilla." — which is basically just a pain-relieving lotion of some sort, often with some sort of alcohol or acetone base. Tasty!

Our cover here is from a tie-in edition to the 1934 movie version of Anne of Green Gables, and on the cover there we've got Gilbert Blythe played by Tom Brown and Anne Shirley played by... Anne Shirley? What? Oh, I see. She was born Dawn Evelyeen Paris, started acting as a toddler and went through a bunch of different stage names, eventually changing at 16 from "Dawn O'Day" — yeesh — to "Anne Shirley" to coincide with the release of this film, distinctly her most famous. She was in a few other things, and retired from acting at 26. Really, the only people in the entire cast and crew that I've even heard of — and I'm no slouch when it comes to old-time Hollywood — is a very young Ann Miller in her first film role as "Child Extra (uncredited)," and Charley "Uncle Henry" Grapewin as Dr. Tatum in this, just one out of the ten movies he was in in 1934 alone. Dang.

Did I use too many em dashes in today's post? Hmph. I like em dashes, shut up.


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

Anne of Green Gables, Chapters Eighteen and Nineteen

In which Anne redeems herself with Mrs. Barry, Marilla is badgered into allowing Anne to be mildly social, and an old lady is wildly accosted in her bed.



We get into some Canadian politics in these chapters, with references to "Grits" (the Liberal Party of Canada) and the Conservative Party of Canada, which is apparently not the same Conservative Party of Canada that currently holds the majority. They also refer to the Canadian Premier, "premier" officially only referring to the governmental head of a province or territory (like US governors), but informally can refer to the Canadian Prime Minister, which is how it appears it's being used here. Since it appears that Anne of Green Gables  takes place maybe in the late 1870s, and he's specifically mentioned as being a Conservative, that means the Prime Minister they're probably talking about is John Macdonald, PM from 1867-1873 and from 1878-1891, and considered one of the fathers of the Canadian Confederation. For more information about all things Canadian-historical, please check out "Hark, a vagrant."

We also get to see a case of croup, a swelling in the throat caused by some sort of an infection in the upper respiratory tract that causes a nasty cough and difficulty breathing. Like many diseases, it seems to be a little less dangerous now with modern medication. And no, I'm not entirely sure why the "French girl" looking after the Barry children is consistently called "Young Mary Joe."

The concert offers a plethora of forgotten poetry: "Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight," mentioned by Anne as to be read by Prissy Andrews, was one of Queen Victoria's favorites, one of the most popular poems of the 1800s, and perhaps more melodramatic than moral. Looking for "Far Above the Gentle Daisies" brings up pretty much only references to Anne of Green Gables, specifically the annotated version I wish I had, so I don't know what that's all about. Since it was sung by a choir, though, I'm sure we're all glad I didn't have to use the "Rob sings to you" tag. Sam Sloane recited "How Sockery Set a Hen," a short story written in Dutch dialect, which might actually mean German, about how the titular Sockery got stuck in a barrel while trying to put some eggs under a hen. I'm sure it was done with all taste and respect to our immigrant brethren. Gilbert Blythe's "Bingen on the Rhine" is a real knee-slapper about a dying soldier in Algiers telling a fellow soldier to deliver a last message to his friends and family in his hometown of Bingen am Rhein in Germany, with the quoted line "There's another, not a sister" referring, of course, to the soldier's sweetheart. Oh, and Mr. Phillips did "Mark Antony's oration over the dead body of Caesar," presumably meaning Shakespeare, that I'm sure needs no further explanation.

Phew! Lotta notes in this one, so not too much to say about today's cover up there, a neat semi-Impressionist one from a 2001 Polish edition entitled Ania z Zielonego Wzgórza.


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

Anne of Green Gables, Chapters Sixteen and Seventeen

In which Anne and Diana have a lovely tea that ends in tragic debauchery and the girls are forbidden from seeing each other again, they bid farewell and express their love for each other in a manner that reads somewhat differently in modern times, at which point Anne decides to return to school where she'll show them, she'll show them all.



Ms. Montgomery has an interesting tendency to quote within the narration, which I hope is coming across as I'm reading. As Anne is lamenting that Diana is not acknowledging her whatsoever in school (before receiving Diana's note), we hear "The Caesar's pageant shorn of Brutus' bust / Did but of Rome's best son remind her more," which is a quote from Lord Byron's Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, but a quick Google search on it comes up with Anne of Green Gables nearly as often as Byron. Who's the bigger romantic now, huh?

This time around we've got a French edition from 2008 entitled Anne et le bonheur, which, near as I can translate, means "Anne and happiness," which I suppose sums it all up, in a way. I am a bit unsure as to whether this is in fact Anne of Green Gables proper or not, despite being tagged as such in this cover gallery, as a search brings up this French Wikipedia page listing the French title of Green Gables as Anne... La maison aux pignons verts, which looks like it makes a lot more sense. None of the other books in the series are listed as Anne et le bonheur, though, and all other pages I get as search results are in French. Any French speakers want to take a crack at this?

Anywho, I mostly wanted to post this one because, while I'm certainly no expert on fashion history, Anne's outfit here makes me think less of 1908 and more like she's about to toss her hat up in a freeze frame.


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

Anne of Green Gables, Chapter Fifteen

In which Anne begins to attend school, where the last of the major players is introduced with the most dreadful insult, and Anne decides that Canadian public education has failed her.



We've got an especially good illustration this time around, of Anne about to full on break a hunk of slate over Gilbert's head because he called her "Carrots." YES.

12:32 - "Thwack! Anne had brought her slate down on Gilbert's head." Could the
word "Gilbert" really not fit on the next line, it had to be split in the middle like that?

I mean, yes, I know that classroom slates are real thin and it's not like she dropped a paving stone on his skull or anything but still. Sweet. You can tell these two are meant to be together. What, that's no spoiler or nothing. Just look at that picture up there. If that's not true love, I don't know what is.

Oh, and hey, I just realized a missed an illustration back in chapters 9-11, so you might want to go on back and take a look-see.


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

Anne of Green Gables, Chapters Twelve to Fourteen

In which Anne makes a bosom friend in Diana Barry, and scandal rocks Green Gables by means of a pic-a-nic and a brooch, and in which our narrator tries not to snicker at the word "bosom."



Nothing really jumped out at me as needing a note in this one, and we won't be getting another illustration until next time (but it'll be a doozy!) so here's another cover, this one from a 1970 Japanese edition. Fun fact: Did you know that Anne of Green Gables is weirdly popular in Japan? Apparently, it's been on their national school curriculum since 1952, so pretty much every person born and educated in Japan since World War II ended has read this book. Of course, I don't know if this completely explains why it's caught on there the way it has; I mean, there must have been some special appeal to get put on the curriculum in the first place, and surely not every book placed on there has become so popular, right?

Nine years after this edition was printed, Nippon Animation put out what appears to be an astonishingly comprehensive anime adaptation where what the crap is up with Anne's head holy geez she looks like the next stage in human evolution seriously wow. Anyway, it's apparently pretty good.

Also, let's back up a sec, two links back, did you see that? There's a real Green Gables, and a freakin' Anne of Green Gables THEME PARK up in Prince Edward Island. Seriously, we need more theme parks based on books.


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