A blog's 2015 in review

It's rather gratifying to see which five Hook's Waltz posts of 2015 were the most-read.

By Trina Schart Hyman, 1980

Searching for the lost boys
I didn't realize the lost boys were so popular. It was fun investigating various visualizations of them throughout the years. Some of their portrayals--particularly current ones--are very far from J. M. Barrie's understanding indeed.

A Partnership
I'm pleased this was popular, both because it's an example of my fiction writing and because I got to explore the character of  'Becca Bloom in more detail than The Stowaway allows.

Berliner Ensemble/Cocorosie interpretation of Peter Pan

New Directions for Peter Pan
For all the versions I find problematic, there are other interpretations that I find intriguing and worthwhile.

Mural at Grand Ormond Street Hospital

Peter at the hospital
Also gratifying, because the staff at Great Ormond Street Hospital are lovely and do good things. I'm pleased that I got to visit them and that I can tell people about them and J. M. Barrie's financial gift.

"The Libertine's Death," from Rose Mortimer,
or, The Ballet Girl's Revenge, 1865

Defending the Victorians
Written because I had reached the end of my tolerance of people speaking of Victorian England as if it marked some low in human civilization, when in fact it was the era that birthed attitudes and reforms we are still working to perfect today. A huge amount of research went into this, so I'm glad to know others find the topic interesting.

Unwind and unfold

Research is so often a tumble down a rabbit hole, an exploration of an intricate network beneath what we take for granted today--so much of it forgotten, but so much of it easily explored if you stumble into the right warren. 

I was reminded again how much history underlies The Stowaway when I researched what Captain Hook and Vivian Drew would find during a trip to London in 1908. To my joy, I found an actual floor plan of the National Gallery from 1907 (both online and for sale from www.old-print.com--this is going to be a lovely, geeky little bit of art framed on my wall.)

From a 1907 Karl Baedecker handbook
for travelers to London.

View of Trafalgar Square from 1908

Old-print.com also had this page from architectural publication The Builder from 1897, which I thought would be an interesting comparison. Which it certainly was--when I took a close look at it, I realized it was from another museum altogether. So why is it labeled "National Gallery"?

Tate Britain, aerial  view

As it turns out, because it's a schematic of the building that is now the Tate Britain. Henry Tate offered his collection of art to England in 1889, and it was housed in a building called "The National Gallery for British Art" when it opened in 1897. (This will become clearer in a minute.) Redubbed "National Gallery, Millbank" in 1920, and officially renamed "Tate Britain" in 1932, the museum has has had seven building extensions since 1897, and now comprises far more than its original eight rooms.

The building we know as the National Gallery today opened in Trafalgar Square in 1834, on the former site of the King's Mews, a site chosen to be central to all of London. It was the third building to hold the art collection, and (aha!) what is now Tate Britain was in fact built to address complaints that it was too small. The current National Gallery has also been expanded several times: in 1869, when its famous dome was added, and in 1907, when barracks at the back of the building (originally the King's Mews) were cleared to create five new galleries (which I assume would have been finished by the time James and Vivian visited). Further expansions took place in 1975 and 1991.

The National Gallery in Trafalgar Square as of Sept. 2014

View of the National Gallery from
my own visit in October 2014

I can't help thinking a fantastic book could be written about the National Gallery, and/or the Tate museums. But I'm afraid I have this one to finish first.

A scent of 1908

"Four hours of research for two lines of text" is my oft-repeated joke. And sometimes an evening spent doing research ends in a scene abandoned on the cutting room floor, so to speak. I share both my research into Edwardian perfume and its related outtake here.

Jicky perfume was created by the house of Guerlaine in 1889, and was one of the first perfumes to contain synthetic essences. As described by a variety of sources, Jicky's notes included lavender, citrus, and rose over a base of civet (a scandalous scent!) and vanilla. Legend has it the perfume was named for a woman named Jacqueline with whom Aimé Guerlain fell unrequitedly in love, but more likely it was named after his nephew Jacques. It was marketed as a women's scent, but proved equally if not more popular with men.

Jicky is still available- in fact, it's the oldest perfume in continuous production. While I'm tempted to try some for myself, I know that classic fragrances have mostly been modified for modern preferences, and I wouldn't have the same experience with it as do Vivian and James in this brief scene from The Stowaway, which takes place shortly after their arrival at the Savoy Hotel in London.

*  *  *

Deep in my brown leather trunk I discovered an unfamiliar green velvet bag. “And what might this be, Lord Jim?”

“A gift for you, compliments of 'Becca. It seems she enjoys outfitting her new customer. Also I told her in my last letter about our unpleasant experience with the lavender, and she offered to send along something we would like better.”

From the bag I withdrew a small, light-green velvet box. I traced the looped House of Guerlain emblem printed in gold upon the lid before I opened it, drawing out the moment. “Jicky perfume!" Any aspirations I may have had of appearing sophisticated were handily overcome by the sight of the beveled glass bottle in the box.

Jicky in its 1908 bottle

If James liked to see me happily surprised, this must have been all he could ask for. He leaned over my shoulder, one long ringlet brushing my cheek, as I held the bottle gingerly in both hands. “'Tis only proper to warn you, It has a lavender note, but 'Becca promises it will not remind us of our mothers. And we can both wear it, if the lady doesn't object.”

“I would be honored to share a scent with you, sir.” I turned my beaming face to his. “James, how did she know? I've always wished for a bottle of this.”

“Good. You can wear it tomorrow, and at least something worthwhile will have come of the day.”

“Let's try it tonight and make sure we do like it, shall we?” I unscrewed the top and sniffed. “Oh, I don't think that will be difficult at all.”

I learned ever more about Jicky and the House of Guerlain researching for this post. Some sources:
Fragrantica, Monsieur-Guerlain, Now Smell This. And there are some interesting first-hand accounts of people's experiences with Jicky on the web as well.

The jewel in the jungle

"It's pink," marvels Vivian Drew when she first sees the Teatro Amazonas in Manaus.

"Mr. Cecco told me as much," says Jas. Hook in response. "But he left out everything else of note, which I suppose is to be expected."

Everything else of note" is a significant amount. The Teatro was a showpiece of Manaus at the time of the rubber trade, at a time when "the White City" was one of the most extravagant places on earth, a center for a blatant display of money and culture from Europeans who were making their fortunes exporting rubber around the world (and doing so on the backs of South American natives, but I digress). And it remains a cultural draw, appearing prominently in visitors' guides written for this year's World Cup in Brazil.

The teatro took fifteen years to build, finally opening its doors on January 7, 1897, for a performance of the opera La Gioconda. Legend has it the theater was built in hopes of attracting Enrico Caruso to perform in Manaus, but there is no evidence that he ever actually did so.

The entire theater was built from European materials in a Renaissance style. Atop the pink edifice rises a dome covered with 36,000 tiles from Alsace-Lorraine painted in the blue and gold of Brazilian flag. Mr. Foggerty of the Jolly Roger's crew might have approved, as he originally hailed from the Alsace region of France, according to J.M. Barrie. If Benard Foggerty cared about such things.

In addition, iron for the framework of the building was brought from Glasgow. Murano glass chandeliers hung from sky-blue domed ceilings painted with scenes from the arts by Italian artist Domenico de Angelis. Not everything in the Teatro was of European design, however--the metal chairs had cane seats and backs for comfort in the jungle heat.

Upon entering the reception foyer, a visitor was greeted by golden drapes, coral pillars of Carrara marble, and heavy carved chairs of Jacaranda wood.

A pirate captain might not be able to procure the best of the 701 seats in the harp-shaped theater upon short notice, but with three tiers of box seats, he could certainly arrange for reasonable sightlines for him and his companion. From there they would look upon a painted curtain, with "The Meeting of the Waters," a depiction by Crispim do Amaral of the Rio Negro and Solimões rivers where they meet to form the Amazon. 

After the collapse of the rubber trade in the early years of the 20th century, there was little call for European opera performances in the heart of the jungle. The Teatro stood empty for 90 years, with the exception of its appearance in Werner Herzog's 1980 film Fitzcarraldo, until 2001 when Brazil's new populist government decided to reopen it, "allocating 1.5 million pounds a year for this task (in a province where 60 percent of the population is poverty stricken and illiterate," as Atlas Obscura puts it.

A variety of concerts and performances are held now in the refurbished Teatro, which also hosts an annual opera festival and is the home of the Amazonas Philharmonic Orchestra. A few changes have been  made to its original decor. The wicker seats have been replaced by more traditional wooden chairs with red velvet upholstery (one of the originals remains on display). And it now houses a Lego miniature of itself.

After my immersion in research about Manaus and the Teatro, I'm especially intrigued to learn about a recent film that seems to bring up some interesting--and uncomfortable--contrasts between the theater and its location, both in the past and now. As the documentary's creator chooses only to screen it in locations that are as opulent as its subject, I can't say if I'll ever get the chance to determine this for myself. Such elitism seems entirely appropriate for a theater with a history such as this.

Ten facts about Captain Hook

As promised! More Captain Hook in the blog this year. (Such a burden.) Some of these details were previously chronicled by J.M. Barrie, while others have been revealed as I work on The Stowaway. (Sources at the end.)

1. Peter Pan has convinced himself that he cut off the hand of Captain Jas. Hook and threw it to the Neverland crocodile. [1] The truth, however, is more complicated and sadder, and took place long before the two met. [3]

2. Books from the Eton library, inscribed with the name "Jacobus Hook," can still occasionally be found in second-hand bookstores. [2]

3. James Hook does fear the crocodile, but no more than he would any large and deadly creature. [3]

4. His hatred of Peter Pan results from the boy killing his men without remorse, tormenting him ceaselessly, and being irrepressibly cocky. [1,3]

5. James Hook is an inveterate clothes horse. The red coats for which he has become known are his battle coats, and the time of The Stowaway, he has three. For regular seafaring, he wears blue or gray. [3]

6. He has patterned his appearance after King Charles II, most spectacularly in the long black ringlets in which he wears his hair. [1] While many artists--mostly post-Disney--depict him in stockings and knee-breeches, he learned early on that such dress was not practical for piracy. [3]

7. Hook's eyes are the blue of forget-me-nots. [1] Barrie describes him as "blackavized" [1], or swarthy. Perhaps this coloration can be traced to his Welsh ancestry. [3]

8. His black hair comes from his mother's side of the family, while the chin he near-despises is a legacy from his thoroughly-despised father [3].

9. James Hook was a (largely unwilling) boy soprano. [3] He also played flute [2] and harpsichord. [1]

10. The Captain detests fiction, feeling that he gets enough make-believe during the time he spends in Neverland. Rather, he prefers histories for the understand they give him of the larger world. [3]

Bonus: The ship the Captain sails at the time of Peter Pan and The Stowaway is the third incarnation of the Jolly Roger. [3]

Sources:
[1] Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie, 1911
[2] "Hook at Eton," speech given by J. M. Barrie in 1927
[3] The Stowaway, by your blogger, still in progress

Blue fruit

As requested--no, really--a short vignette that didn't make the cut for The Stowaway, but which manages nevertheless to work in several themes of the book. We begin with Captain Jas. Hook speaking to Vivian Drew.

"We need to replace the oranges those wretched boys stole. Care to accompany me to the island?"

It couldn't be much more dangerous than the ship had been recently, I thought, and agreed, provided we could stay within hailing distance of the Jolly Roger. So after a brief stop at the cabin for hats (the lesson had finally taken), we took possession of the dory.

"We're rowing ourselves?" I had never thought to see James take this duty on.

"We can hardly do a worse job than some of our compatriots," he said, a point I could not argue.

This is Koh Samui, Thailand, not Never Neverland, but the resemblance is notable.

The sea was calm and the afternoon windless. We left the dory in a small cove and set off along the powdery sand of the beach, picking our way carefully through a crowd of tiny spotted birds intent on dining from shells and strands of rotting seaweed. 

"Look up, Viv. Mr. Smee says they're delicious." I followed his gaze to the feathery leaves of a pale-barked tree and a cluster of fruits tucked within, something like plums but with skins of turquoise blue.

I shaded my eyes with my hand and frowned. "Pretty enough, but we shouldn't eat them."

"They didn't hurt Mr. Smee, Viv, and they won't hurt us."

“Didn't your mother ever warn you about blue food?”

“It's a wonder my mother didn't encourage me to eat it.”

I shook my head, but squeezed his forearm to acknowledge the real mistrust that lay beneath his words. Probably my own parents wouldn't have even noticed if Miles and I had poisoned ourselves on blue food, as long as we'd ultimately survived.

“You don't eat blueberries?” James asked.

“They're more purple than blue," I pointed out.

He waved aside my further protests, plucked one of the fruits, and sliced it open with his deck knife. The flesh inside was as blue as the rind, and crunched like an apple as he chewed. Curiosity won out over caution as he presented to me another slice upon the point of his hook, and I bit into it with only a moment of hesitation. 

“It tastes somewhere between an orange and a lemon,” I said in surprise.

“I wonder if these would be any protection against scurvy. Probably best not to chance it.”

“Probably best to see if we survive the remainder of the day after eating them,” I said. “Assuming we don't die at the hands of the lost boys or the teeth of the crocodile.”

Neverland, according to the 2003 film adaptation of Peter Pan

“I have made you dismal, haven't I?”

I thought for a moment. “No, not much more so than I have always been.”

“We are distressingly well-suited for each other, then."

“Agreed.” I took another bite of the blue fruit.

“There are worse ways to die than this,” he said.

“If a person is looking for one.” I wiped my hand on my skirt and sat down carefully in the coarse grass at the base of the tree, leaning against the trunk and closing my eyes.  “Take the first watch, will you, sir?”

“As the lady commands,” he said, but belied his words when he reclined beside me and rested his head in my lap.

“Hmph,” I said sternly. But I was already stroking his hair, and I doubt anyone of our acquaintance would have believed I truly objected.