Sense and Sensibility, Volume the First, Chapters Four to Eight

In which the Dashwoods move out of the home in which they are now unwelcome into a more "modest" cottage, we are introduced to their overly expressive landlord, his boring wife, her dirty old woman mother, and their reserved colonel friend, and in which our narrator really must learn to talk about "balls" in a more appropriate manner.



Here we're introduced to the Dashwoods' new cottage home at Barton where (at around 17:35) we hear about its "demesne," or the manor land reserved for the lord's own use (in this case, their front yard) and "the offices," which means their kitchen and pantry.

At about 23:02, we get to the sole illustration in these five chapters:

23:02 - So shy before company.

And then a couple of other notes: at 26:47, Sir John is unable to get many people to come to his party because "it was moonlight" and many already had engagements. Back in those days, clear nights with a lot of moonlight were preferred for social activities, because it made it easier to travel along the dark country roads.

Last, at 30:10 we hear how Mrs. Jennings is a widow with "ample jointure," and I think I should get credit for not snickering at that, but that just means that she was left a good deal of money in her late husband's will.


If you would like to read along, the text can be found at Project Gutenberg, and high-res copies of the Thompson illustrations can be found in the British Library's Flickr stream. No reading ahead, though!

Sense and Sensibility, Volume the First, Chapters One to Three

In which we are introduced to the members of the Dashwood family, and difficulties with early 19-century British inheritance laws causes problems for the side of the family we like, and in which our narrator won't even pretend to do British accents, don't worry.



Hey, we're back! New book and everything! Spring is finally here after what turned out to be just a terrible March, and we're going to get well and truly rolling again here. Again.

As far as I can tell, there are no "original" illustrations for Sense and Sensibility, as in ones that went with the first printing in 1811. It seems though, that (much like the N. C. Wyeth illustrations from Treasure Island) ones from a later edition have come to be the best known. In this case they are these line drawings by Hugh Thompson from an 1896 edition. Perhaps more importantly, these are the illustrations that were posted in the British Library's astounding public domain Flickr account, so they're the ones I'll be using.

3:48 - His son's son, a child of four years old.

17:40 - "I cannot imagine how they will spend half of it."

Only a couple of quick notes: around 23:00, we hear of the delightful Mrs. John Dashwood's wish that her brother, Edward Ferrars, would be the sort of man who drove a barouche. Not to be confused with the landaus and broughams we met in "A Scandal in Bohemia," a barouche is a four-wheeled carriage with a retractable hood, where the driver sits up front driving two horses, and there is room inside for two couples facing each other. It was obviously very fashionable during the nineteenth century.

At 26:45, we learn of Marianne's admiration for William Cowper, an eighteenth-century poet whose work, often about landscapes and various melancholy stuff, is considered one of the forerunners of Romaticism. Austen loved him, and this is not the last we'll hear about him. He is not to be confused with the anatomist William Cowper, best known for describing what's now known as the Cowper's gland, which is the only thing I can think of when the poet is mentioned.


If you would like to read along, the text can be found at Project Gutenberg, and high-res copies of the Thompson illustrations can be found in the British Library's Flickr stream. No reading ahead, though!

"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!