Un-bombs (1)

Ever since Isaiah had a vision of men beating their swords into ploughshares, it has been pleasant to imagine or witness other examples of the tools or symbols of war being converted into those of peace. I've posted a few examples over on the Tumblr.

Books, not bombs

December 10, 1830: Birthday of Emily Dickinson; recorded in doctor's journal

Emily Dickinson was born on this date in 1830, in Amherst, Massachusetts. Below, the entry from the records (Special Collections of Jones Library, Amherst) of local doctor Isaac G. Cutler, who delivered her.

On the same page is the entry for Emily's future friend Helen Fiske, who, as Helen Hunt Jackson, earned a name as an author and an activist for Native American rights. Fiske's entry is is fourth from the top of the right-hand page, and Emily Dickinson's, tenth from the bottom.

Last year's entry describes the 180th birthday celebrations at the Emily Dickinson Museum, as well as the "baby book" and the relations between Emily Dickinson, her sister-in-law Susan Gilbert Dickinson (who shares a December birthday), and Helen Hunt Jackson.

This year, the annual celebration of the poet's birth, sponsored by the Emily Dickinson Museum, features a lecture—"Emily Dickinson - Outlaw"—by Jerome Charyn, author of the recent fictional account The Secret Life of Emily Dickinson.  The book has a popular Facebook page.

Riders and Romances

This spring, as the Amherst Historical Commission put forward a request for Community Preservation Act funds for the restoration of paintings hanging in the Jones Library (still need to post about that), it occurred to me that most residents had at best a dim awareness that we owned an art collection. In preparation for any questions in Town Meeting, I took a stroll through the building in order to re-familiarize myself with the location of each work of art.

Lo and behold, I came across one of the canvases—Paul Dominique's late 19th-century "Arabs Mounted in Battle"—hanging over: the romance collection.

I'll bet that even some of the more dedicated lovers of this beloved institution didn't know that we owned this one, much less, where to find it. And beneath the venerable painting, we find such alluring titles as One Fine Cowboy: He's got a way with horses. . . and with women . . . .

What's the connection (besides physical proximity—and studs on stallions)? Actually, maybe more than you think.


Read the rest on the book blog:  Gotta Love Those Romance Titles (or: the price of freedom is eternal kitsch).