"The Pied Piper of Hamelin," by Robert Browning

In which it is important to pay your rodent-exterminating musicians lest he leads your children into a mountain forever, and in which the narrator pretends he has some sense of poetic rhythm.



Hey hey, everyone! One of the creepier classic children's stories out there has always been "The Pied Piper of Hamelin," what with the stealing all the children away and piping and such, so that's this year's choice for our (slightly belated) Halloween story. As I discuss in the probably overlong intro, the story is inspired by a circa 1300 stained-glass church window in the town of Hamelin, Germany, and the earliest written record of the town from 1384 which states "It is 100 years since our children left." The actual cause is unknown (Plague? Drowning? Landslide? Children's crusade? Mass emigration?), as is what the piper represents. He might've been an actual person leading them away (like an emigration recruiter, or a crusade leader), or a symbolic figure of death or the devil. The rats were added to the story a few hundred years later.

1592 painting based on the Hamelin window, which was destroyed in 1660.

 Illustrations and notes after the jump!

Rob Reviews: The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak

A couple of things about this post: First, yes, this is not me reading to you. I think I will start occasionally and irregularly breaking up the reading by posting book-related things like reviews or opinion pieces and whatnot. Second, I originally wrote this* and posted it on my personal blog that is very, VERY irregularly updated back in April 2010, but since the movie adaptation of this book came out this weekend (to rather mixed reviews), I figured this was as good a time as any to repost this. And, of course, it's a book about books.

For some reason, when I go to the library I often get out books on a theme, usually unintentionally. A few months ago (because I take a while to read and, more importantly, write), the theme was "books and censorship." Oddly specific, I know. It largely started because of a novel that happened to catch my eye in the young adult section: The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak, about a young girl who steals books in Nazi Germany, narrated by Death, all sort of things that appeal to me.

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!