The Overleaf Mission Statement

I love books. I always have. There's something about completely losing yourself in the pages of a book, immersing yourself in a parallel universe, real or imagined, shedding your ego and replacing the chatter in your head with an alternative narrative in a way that just isn't possible in any way other than reading. The process of reading focuses your attention, expands your imagination, and exercises your critical thinking skills. Reading can evoke strong emotional responses, allow us to entertain new perspectives and, through a combination of all of these effects, broaden our understanding of the world and ourselves.

I started to read when I was two, which was no mean feat because I was born with impaired vision. But I really wanted to read, so I did anything I could to make that happen, like using magnifiers and large print books (when and if I could get them). I became a voracious reader, gobbling up books as fast as I could find them. I could keep up with and sometimes outpace my peers in speed and volume. In 2010, after nearly forty years of doing it the hard way, my girlfriend bought me an eReader for my birthday.

That was a game changer for me. Suddenly, I could change the print size so I could read at a comfortable distance. My eyes didn't tire as easily and the neck and upper back pain I experienced from excessive reading was suddenly only a memory. This was the Golden Fleece I had been in searching for. As if that wasn't enough, I was also delighted to learn that the majority of books I was interested in--mostly written before 1925--were available for FREE!

So I began to read my way through an awful lot of books I hadn't encountered before via websites like Project Gutenberg. I found it to be much better than a bookstore because the selection was invariably larger than any store could hold. Because everything was free, I indulged myself by selecting titles I might not have otherwise picked, much less even find. I was in Literary Hog Heaven.

After two years of going crazy with eBooks, it occurred to me that it might be nice to have something to show for all this reading I was doing. Maybe a blog! But not a blog that sought just to show how cool and smart I was by reading all these big books. I thought it would be great to encourage people to take advantage of the availability of all this great stuff, especially those who might be a little intimidated by the sheer amount and breadth of the material available for free. I think books are for everybody and that nothing should stand between you and the great (and, if not so great, at least fun and interesting) books. Most of those works aren't as impenetrable and inaccessible as you might think. If you have a curious mind and a desire to read something new, you'll do just fine.

The Internet has given us access to vast libraries of human knowledge and expression on a scale never even dreamed of at any time in our history. The eReader has made those books easier to access for unprecedented numbers of people. I know there are some out there who scoff at eBooks, claiming that nothing beats the feel of a book in your hand and that reading eBooks is a profane, despicable practice that they wouldn't be caught dead engaging in.

You know what? Here's the official position of The Overleaf: Screw them. They can do what they like. Books are nice, but it's what's inside them that counts. And that's what eBooks deliver--the important part. And that's what this blog will concentrate on exclusively.

So, you may ask, "Who is this guy? What are his qualifications?" I am someone who loves to read. I tried studying literature when I first entered college, but I absolutely hated it. My professors reduced literature to disembodied theories that contained none of the blood and sweat and guts of great literature. They sought to break things down into neat little formulas that took all the fun out of reading. In fact, I didn't read for a few years after that, so bad was the taste in my mouth. I even became…God save us...a communication major!

But hey, professors have a job to do, and I believe that academics do valuable work. They are, after all, the curates of our collective cultural memory. But for centuries, they have also been our culture's appointed gatekeepers who ultimately decide which works, authors and eras are to be studied. Book publishers tend to keep in print only those titles that they can sell, causing many worthy books to fall by the wayside. So the availability of a growing digital library of works, including many long out of print and out of reach to readers and scholars for generations, allows us to reevaluate works that have fallen through the cracks. This development may, in turn, change the way we look at our own past. It will certainly make for interesting reading.

I humbly confess that I would rather read an actual book than a volume of literary criticism about a book any day of the week. The men and women who write books are trying to communicate with us, to tell us something that they know about the world and feel passionate about. Most of them don't write books to further a theory or a school of expression. They just write. And they write for us to read. And anyone with access to a computer can explore centuries worth of human thought, science, literature, history, philosophy--all for free.

So I started The Overleaf. Here are some basic guidelines I pledge to abide by:

1. I won't talk down to my readers. I'm here to help people learn about books, not make them feel inadequate because they don't know something.
2. I will only provide links to free eBooks from non-profit organizations.
3. I won't accept any advertising from any commercial entity in exchange for links to their websites. This site is for spreading the word about books, not for making money. If I mention a title that isn't available for free, I will always encourage readers to visit their local libraries or their favorite bookstores.
4. There are times when I might not know what I'm talking about. If you think I'm wrong about something, use the comments section or write me an email. I'll leave criticism up in the comments section as long as the comments are civil and constructive. If you're a jerk, then away goes your comment, and no snarky emails will be answered.
5. I'll try to post a new article about twice a month.

That's basically it. I'll read books and tell you about them. My greatest hope is that one of my readers will pick up on a book they learned about here and discover a whole new world they didn't even know they were waiting for. That's the ultimate pleasure of reading. If that happens, please write to me and let me know.

A dear friend of mine, after reading my first few posts, said to me, "I love that you're giving all these old books back to the world." That's the plan!

Happy Holidays, all! See you in 2013!

Sir Walter Scott's "Waverley"

I was worried about how to approach the immense canon of Sir Walter Scott. He's an intimidating, towering literary figure, especially to those of us who don't know beans about Scotland. But before his novels became popular, practically no one outside of Scotland knew beans about Scotland. So, much like the worldwide audience that first encountered his work two hundred years ago, I would learn of the lore and customs of his native land as I explored his body of work. Unlike those readers of 1814, I have access to incredible amounts of information to aid my understanding.

My first exposure to Scott came when I was a just a kid via this very funny Monty Python sketch:



  Sir Walter Scott has an unjust reputation for turgid and inscrutable prose. While its true that his syntax and sentence structure lends a different rhythm to his writing that is most definitely of its time, a willing reader can acclimate to Scott's style without too much trouble. The Scotch dialect in the mouths of his characters can take a little getting used to and may indeed blow a stiff breeze up your kilt, but Scott provides some gentle contextual clues that help readers get the hang of it fairly quickly.

These days, his work is long out of fashion among academics and the public. Ivanhoe and Rob Roy are still famous works, but other than that, the Scott section of your local library is likely covered in dust and strewn with plaid-colored cobwebs. It's a shame, because with a little effort, the average reader might find out firsthand how wonderful his books are.

Enjoying an historical novel hinges upon the fact that you know a few things about history in order to appreciate one. That tends to put people off, reinforcing an unfortunate stereotype about the inaccessibility of great literature to modern readers. This perception is precisely what this blog was intended to dispel. One can understand a novel in historical context easily enough if one is even moderately motivated. So I'll let you in on a little secret: When encountering a work with an unfamiliar historical context, I turn to Wikipedia.

There. Now you know. I feel better for telling you. Wikipedia is far from perfect, but it's a great place to start. Want to know about the Jacobite rebellions in the 18th century? Want to dabble in the feudal clan culture of the Highlands? Want to understand the socioeconomic concerns of the Lowland peasantry? I did. I wanted to unlock some of the secrets of Scott. And I followed the sources of the Wiki articles to find even more fascinating reading that I will never have time enough to read if I hope to continue to work and buy food. But you can wade through just enough background information to help enhance your understanding of an older text in maybe twenty minutes or so, whereas taking on research just to enjoy a new book used to mean a trip to the library with a lot of people in thick glasses shushing at each other. Now, not only do you have access to great works of literature in the form of eBooks for free from places like Project Gutenberg, but you don't have to work very hard to get the most out of a good book.


Waverley (1814)

What you need to know: The seeds of conflict date back to a royal succession dispute in 1688 which ended the reign of the House of Stuart as the ruling family.  In 1745, The Jacobites, who supported Bonnie Prince Charlie of the House of Stuart as the legitimate heir to the British throne, attempted an armed rebellion against the sitting monarch, George II of the House of Hanover. Their march across the Scottish border into England to retake the crown was ill conceived, as they were massively outnumbered by the king's forces and quickly defeated.

The title character of Scott's first novel is a young, privileged English gentleman of romantic disposition. His uncle, despite being a Jacobite sympathizer and recognizing a need for the young man to find direction in life, encourages him to join the army under the reigning king, George II. Waverley becomes a captain and is stationed in Aberdeen. Before leaving, his uncle gives him a letter of introduction to Baron Bradwardine, an old friend in the lowlands with whom he fought in the Jacobite uprising of 1715. Waverley, upon obtaining an extended leave of absence from his command, spends several weeks on the Baron's estate where he is introduced to many key instigators in the upcoming rebellion. As his ties to his new friends deepen, a series of events (no spoilers) forces young Waverley to resign his commission and join their ill-fated cause.

As young Waverley's eyes are opened to the beauty and mystery of Scotland, its customs and its people, as his imagination is sparked by romantic tales and visions of gallantry, so is the reader transported to an impossibly beautiful place where the very breeze whispers ancient rhymes and the rugged landscape reflects the toil and character of a proud people. It's all pretty intoxicating. But the reality of Waverley's situation encroaches on this fantasy soon enough as a series of intrigues and misfortunes force the young soldier to make crucial decisions about his allegiances.

Scott had me from the very start with a trifecta of good writing: fluent prose, ingenious plotting and truly rich and engaging characters. This novel is a not-so-subtle plea for tolerance that still resonates two hundred years later. Waverley isn't the only one whose view of the world is significantly colored by his own ideals. The people he befriends see their relationship to the world and to each other through a veil of their own convictions and prejudices, and their subjectivity has dire consequences. Waverley emerges from his trials as a man transformed by his shattered illusions with a firmer grasp of himself and the world around him.

Great novels like this are accessible to us if we are adventurous enough to put aside our own prejudices about them. By making an effort to dispel our own preconceptions about the world, we can begin to see and understand it better, much in the same way Waverley does. And this is why I love literature so much. It parallels life. We are open to understand only if we are willing to do so, and what we gain by our efforts is immeasurable. Adventurous reading can enrich our understanding of ourselves. That is the transformative power of literature and that is why I share these books with you.

A note about this edition: For this eBook, Project Gutenberg used a very fancy deluxe edition from 1893 that is a reprint of the definitive 1829 edition. It has tons of introductory material, including a preface by the author and several examples of the author's false starts that he produced while trying to write his first novel, printed in full. Interesting stuff, but skip all of it until you've read the book. The actual novel begins at 15%. Oh, and the illustrations are wonderful.

Download Waverley from Project Gutenberg

Two Novels About the Black Plague

Introductions and prefaces to old books can be frustrating. I would avoid them if I were you. They either spoil the story because the preface writer assumes you've already read the book you're about to read or by disparaging the skills of the author. If you really want to read prefaces and introductions, wait until you've finished the book before letting someone tell you what they think it means or how crappy the book you just enjoyed really was. It is a practice that puts people off, especially curious readers encountering a new book.

Don't sweat it. Rather than believe what everybody says about literature, you're better off reading books for yourself and making up your own mind. There's certainly nothing wrong with weighing opinions; literary criticism can be helpful, and the work that literary critics do has value, but to me, the be-all-and-end-all of judging a book is whether or not you liked it, rather than whether you're supposed to like it. That's what this blog is all about--I read books and tell you what I know, but after you download a book and start reading, you're on your own. And that's as it should be.

The following concerns a pair of novels about the 1665-66 plague and/or fire of London. Neither of these authors get much respect. The events depicted didn't have a lot of fans, either.

History of the Plague in London (a.k.a. Journal of the Plague Year) (1722) by Daniel Defoe

The uncredited introduction to this 1894 edition is a good example of the audience-repellent approach of souring the reader before the book is even read. In it, we learn that, despite Defoe's achievements, he was, in fact, a lousy writer and, while History of the Plague in London is one of his better works, it pretty much sucks, too.

In all fairness, Defoe can be a puzzle. He was a slippery character who wrote in favor of whatever political position personally benefited him. His pamphleteering got him into plenty of trouble and his natural instinct for the sensational casts doubts on the origins of this "history". Is it a true account actually written by his uncle Henry Foe about his experiences in 1665, or did the author just make it all up?

As the introduction points out, the phrasing of his sentences is a little weird, as is the structure of this plotless "novel". In fact, it feels like a personal journal. It is disorganized and repetitive, with dizzying, roundabout sentences. But the work does set the mood of the time and place with an eerie clarity and evokes the feeling of dread as it describes a proud city under a pestilential siege through dozens of anecdotes of human suffering and loss. One might conclude that Defoe was either a plagiarist, a third-rate writer barely in command of his craft, or a brilliant writer who was able to emulate the haphazard immediacy of a journal to convey eyewitness impressions of an overwhelming humanitarian disaster. Inspired or inept? Probably a little of both.

The narrative is told from the perspective of a merchant from the pandemic's beginnings in the spring of 1665 until the autumn of the same year. He relates very specific details about real places, tracks the plague's progress from West to East London, keeps a running body count from publicly posted bills, relates anecdotes of hardships and adventures, both from people he meets and from hearsay, describes the official government efforts to contain the disease and describes the horror and human grief and turmoil as the city quickly succumbs to the ravages of the plague. He documents government efforts to contain the disease and questions the efficacy of shutting up the homes of victims with their families which ultimately led to desperate escapes that spread the disease even further. Well-intended actions of a terrified populace made the nightmare even worse, and the specter of Divine retribution haunted the minds and hearts of Londoners as they tried to escape their fate.

Uplifting, isn't it? Sounds like lots of fun, huh? Why bother? Because his images of plague-stricken London stubbornly stick in the mind and because Defoe accurately describes the inevitable dissipation of the social fabric that occurs with widespread disaster. This is a true-to-life depiction of human beings under pressure in any age. He describes people at their best when friends, neighbors and families try to help one another, and at their absolute worst as quacks, thieves and opportunists line their pockets with the misery of others. The historical and geographical detail adds to the air of authenticity throughout, and Defoe's compassionate narrator, whether real or invented, lucid or disorganized, is the voice of the human conscience in the middle of a harrowing crisis. Despite the weirdness of its structure and questions concerning the work's origins, this is pretty stark, riveting stuff.

Download History of the Plague in London fron Project Gutenberg


Old St. Paul's (1841) by William Harrison Ainsworth

Fear of contagion looms large in our collective memory as a species. Long before we were able to understand the root causes of disease, we learned to fear its spread through close contact, and that fear has become a mechanism of survival rooted deeply in our evolutionary psychology. Ainsworth taps into that primordial terror by evoking a biblical, apocalyptic foreboding in which the many sins of London's inhabitants are juxtaposed with the disease and destruction that seals the city's fate.

Ainsworth's novel is largely a commentary on and expansion of Defoe's book. He takes the descriptions, events and overall tone of History and builds an actual story and characters around it.  Old St. Paul's works in the way nearly all of Ainsworth's historical romances work: If the plot seems a bit contrived and the characters a little predictable, the attention paid to setting and historical detail envelopes the reader in a hazy suspension of disbelief much like, as critic and author Stephen Carter points out, a big budget Hollywood disaster movie does. And like a movie, we're more apt to forgive flaws if we're being entertained. We don't necessarily expect everything to be perfect.

This is essentially the story of Leonard Holt, an assistant to a pious and hard-working green grocer, Stephen Bloundel. Holt is in love with the grocer's daughter, Amabel whose heart is set on the roguish Earl of Rochester who, despite the mounting crisis of the plague that might have otherwise distracted him, attempts to carry Amabel off numerous times against her will using a variety of rouses. Bloundel, like so many Londoners trying to protect their families from the ravages of the plague, stocks up on provisions and shuts hit house up until the pestilence passes. Other characters include Doctor Hodges, a skilled and compassionate physician, and Solomon Eagle, the doomsaying prophet who preaches repentance in the face of God's wrath and warns of the coming fire that will burn the city to the ground. Anselm Chowles, a casket maker and Mother Malmaynes, a corrupt and murderous nurse, seek to gain materially from the tumult and spend most of the novel plotting heists and hoarding their spoils. Even King Charles II, ever the skirt chaser, presides over his legendarily hedonistic court by enabling his barons in their relentless pursuits of debauchery and womanizing.

However, the main character of this story is really Old St. Paul's Cathedral itself. Outside its doors and within its walls and even deep within its cavernous vaults, plots and schemes are hatched and foiled. High atop Ludgate Hill, St. Paul's sits in silent judgement of a city besieged by disease and fire and of its people whose selfish motives and evil designs bring about their own ruin. Even the cathedral itself cannot escape complete destruction, but in the end, both the cathedral and the city are resurrected and, since this is after all a novel very much of the Victorian age, virtues are safeguarded, the sinful are punished and the good go on to live decent, fulfilling lives.

But don't let that put you off. When we watch a disaster movie, we're not so preoccupied with plot and characters as we are with effects and atmosphere, and these are delivered in spades. We're in it for the ride. Ainsworth's novels reward on a level other than plot and characterization, which in this case are easily sufficient to hold things together. His relentless research consistently imbued his work with authentic historical, geographical and architectural detail that immerse the reader in the drama of history. It's pure escapism, but very well-rendered escapism that often freely forsakes factual events for the sake of a compelling story. This is not an intellectual journey, but a visceral one intended for mainstream readers of his time. Ainsworth brings history and myth together in an inseparable whole intended to stir the emotions and spark the imagination. There's something to be said for any author who can do that successfully, and on its own terms, Old St. Paul's does so very well.

Download Old St. Paul's from Project Gutenberg

Antique Poverty: Voices of Reform 1844-1901

As children, most of us were harangued by our elders about how easy we have it compared to the drudgery they had to endure. It's a litany familiar to all generations: The snowy uphill walks to and from school; the severely rationed morsels of food they were grateful for even though they invariably only got cold liver and wood chips to eat; the threadbare, out of style hand-me-downs they wrapped their emaciated bodies in; the lack of any modern convenience whatsoever--these specters of an impoverished past have been used to taunt the young out of their smug, privileged complacency. Such efforts usually fail, as tales of real suffering tend to have a caricatured unreality in the minds of those who can scarcely imagine what real deprivation is like. Or so we're told.

My understanding of that kind of hardship is still only academic, but I have always been drawn to real life accounts of squalor and degradation, perhaps because my father was raised during the Great Depression of the 1930s and, typical of those of his generation, he revealed few details of his childhood. Growing up, I learned that those who were able to escape poverty possessed a certain inner resolve and strength of character. I also saw that not everyone was so fortunate.
 
A few writers, journalists, economists and philosophers have taken the time to document the hardships of those caught underfoot, sometimes to prove a theory, encourage or enact reform, or merely to express outrage. Here are a few non-fiction titles that critiqued and cataloged the growing humanitarian crisis that came about as the result of the Industrial Revolution in England between 1844 and 1901--roughly the span of the Victorian age. These books give us a clearer picture of real life as it was for the vast majority of people in nineteenth century Great Britain.


The Condition of the Working Class in England in 1844 (1845) by Friedrich Engels

Engels describes firsthand the piteous working and living conditions of the English working class at a time of unprecedented industrial growth in excruciating detail, backed up by cited research and very telling quotes from government reports and newspaper stories of the day.  Child labor, brutally long workdays, hazardous working conditions, grim living standards, poor public sanitation, crime and low wages were steadily on the increase in 1844 as industry rushed to meet the demands of an emerging global marketplace for goods produced in Great Britain. Most of his observations concern the city of Manchester, where--and no small irony here--he ran a textile mill owned by his family and donated most of his salary to his pal, Karl Marx to help him finish Das Kapital.

The work of Friedrich Engels and Karl Marx fell out of fashion after their names and theories became attached to oppressive twentieth century Communist regimes, but their criticisms of the emerging industrial world inspired much needed social reforms. Politics aside, Engels raises some good questions. The debate over the responsibility of private corporations for the well being of the communities in which they operate makes this work still relevant to twenty-first century readers. Not exactly an easy read, but it does put our own times into perspective. Some of the political and economic theorizing may cause your eyes to glaze over a bit, but the shocking reality he describes and his sincere concern for the state of things will bring you back to Earth.

Download The Condition of the Working Class in England in 1844 from Project Gutenberg


Reminiscences of a Workhouse Medical Officer (1889) by Joseph Rogers, M.D.

In 1834, Parliament passed the Poor Law Amendment Act which ended an over 200 year old system of of parish-based relief to England's poor. This system was replaced by the workhouse system in which the homeless, sick and infirm were warehoused in a prison-like environment designed to save money and discourage indigence. Neither of those goals was achieved. The workhouse system was badly run and the workhouses themselves became nightmarish dens of human suffering. Joseph Rogers was a London medical officer in the workhouse system who bravely sought and achieved many landmark reforms in the battle for better, more humane public health.

For thirty years, Rogers fought corruption, cronyism, graft and institutional dysfunction to strengthen cleanliness standards, establish public mortuaries, set up dispensaries, set dietary guidelines and hire qualified nurses and staff. His very public crusade for reform brought him into conflict with his superiors, but his tenacity led to the establishment of laws and standards that not only improved the condition of workhouse wards, but proved that acting humanely and compassionately towards the inmates actually saved money and improved public health for the entire population. Sixty years after his death, the workhouse system of health care for the poor would be supplanted by Britain's National Health Service.

The dry, understated prose of his memoir contains a few touching stories about the patients he served. He also describes in some detail the bureaucratic battles he fought on their behalf, often to his own professional detriment. This is a very matter-of-fact but nonetheless dramatic tale of a man steadfastly committed to the practice of medicine who spearheaded much needed reforms against incredible odds. I'm surprised no one has made a movie based on this book. It would be a real corker.

Download Reminiscences of a Workhouse Medical Officer from Archive.org
 

The People of the Abyss (1902) by Jack London

This a short but harrowing piece of investigative journalism in which American author Jack London goes undercover to better understand the hardships of the impoverished people of East London. He lived among them, slept in doss houses and charitable shelters which were more like prisons, talked with people he met and observed firsthand the often savagely indifferent  ways in which the working poor and homeless were treated in an empire at the very peak of its wealth and world influence. Informative of our age, dense with chilling realism and well written, this is perhaps Jack London's most poignant survival story.

About halfway through, the focus of the book shifts from his personal experiences to cited statistics and quotes from a series of newspaper articles that reveal glaring inequities in British law towards the poor. In 1901, the penalty for stealing even a loaf of bread was much steeper than the penalties for assault or domestic abuse, and the author indicts the British legal system for criminalizing poverty itself. His tone is grave and full of compassion and outrage, His firsthand observations create a fascinating snapshot of the end of the glory days of the British Empire by looking straight into the eyes of its most downtrodden people. Well worth a look.

Note: This book also inspired George Orwell to write Down and Out in Paris and London, an alleged "novel" that documents Orwell's real life experiences working in the kitchens of Paris and on the bum in England in the late 1920s. It's a pretty fabulous piece of writing with a large cult following. You can find it at your local library or your favorite bookseller. 

Download The People of the Abyss from Project Gutenberg
 

In a future post, I'll explore how growing public awareness of the plight of the poor surfaced in the novel in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

Books Into Film: 19th Century Horror/Sci-Fi Novels and the Films They Inspired

One of the themes I hope to explore in this blog is what happens when filmmakers attempt to craft movies out of classic books. The novel and the motion picture are two distinct mediums that convey narrative very differently. and turning books into film has produced mixed results over the last hundred years or so to say the least. We'll explore the reasons why in this and upcoming entries. For our purposes on Halloween, let's have a look at a handful of classic scary books and the earliest Hollywood incarnations of Frankenstein, Dracula and The Invisible Man.

Like most people my age, I came to the film versions of these novels first. I remember watching them on public television every Saturday night with my dad when I was twelve years old. I would be in college before I first encountered Shelley's Frankenstein. (Interestingly, the class also included Goethe's The Sorrows of Young Werther, so similar in tone that those two books are forever entwined in my mind). It would be many more years before I finally read Dracula and The Invisible Man. In a way, I think seeing the movies first was the best way to approach these works. The iconic images of Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi and Claude Rains are still in my head like everyone else's, but a whole new world opened itself to me when I read the novels that was in some ways deeper and more engrossing.

Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus (1818) by Mary Shelley 
Discovering how vastly different book and movie versions of Frankenstein really are is almost a rite of passage for young adults. In the novel, an ambitious, tortured 18th century scientist with a keen interest in arcane science and a hunger for glory and fame creates a hideous but intimately sentient beast. Upon the success of his experiment, he promptly abandons his creation in disgust and horror, leaving the monster to fend for itself. While not much to look at, his progeny is incredibly strong, intelligent, articulate and cunning. He hides in the shadows, learning how to survive and how to speak while secretly observing a peasant family and pursues and torments his creator to the far ends of the earth, murdering his friends and family in retribution for his creation and abandonment.

This novel combines Gothic and Romantic elements into what many consider to be the first science fiction story. It is a short novel that deals with grand themes. Dr. Frankenstein is utterly self-involved and given to hysterical outbursts. As the selfish cruelty he unleashes upon his creation and in turn on those he loves causes his fortunes to darken, modern readers my lose patience with his pathetic inability to own up to his actions. Yet this is a novel that should be read. Its subject matter is groundbreaking, evokes a tangible darkness and terror through its prose and raises many pertinent questions about the limits of our ability to control our own technological destiny at a time when the Industrial Revolution was thoroughly transforming society. Of all people, twenty first century readers should have no difficulties relating to the book's premise. But there are many interpretive angles to this story--scientific, political, philosophical, ethical--take your pick. That's why it continues to be read and analyzed. It is a novel very much of its time in that it accurately reflects the cultural discourse of its day, and very much relevant to our time in what it foreshadows in the last 200 years of human history. Literature doesn't get any better than that.

Download Frankenstein from Project Gutenberg


Frankenstein (1931) Directed by James Whale
In the film, the name of Frankenstein has become synonymous with the monster itself rather than its creator. James Whate's movie is entirely different from the novel that inspired it and it would be a perfect example of how Hollywood routinely eviscerates great works of literature for the screen, except for one thing: It's an absolutely brilliant film that stands on its own. Adapted from Peggy Webling's play instead of Shelly's novel, Whale and screenwriters Francis Edward Faragoh and Garrett Fort narrowed the focus of the story by changing the time period, adding and removing a few characters and throwing out most of the original storyline. In so doing, the film shifts the horror of the story from its moral implications to the monster itself. Boris Karloff's performance and the extensive makeup that created the image of the monster so permanently etched in our subconscious minds may have upstaged Shelly's novel, but this film is a work of art in its own right. Students would be advised to actually read the book because watching the movie the night before exams won't help you at all.

Watch Frankenstein on You Tube


Dracula (1897) by Bram Stoker
Irish author Bram Stoker's horror novel literally speaks volumes (well, three volumes, anyway) about British imperial unease with a rising tide of Eastern European immigrants. Count Dracula is a wealthy, handsome, resourceful foe with an unsettling interest in London real estate who tries to ensnare a young lawyer and his friends in his plot to…well...overwhelm England by drinking the blood of innocents and buying investment property. The epistolary structure of the book is sometimes awkward and the plot takes a few leaps of faith, but suspending disbelief with the aid of a glass of wine should clear that up. This is really an adventure story with a dramatic climax, a bit of action and plenty of sexual tension--none of which can be said for the film that bears its name. 

Download Dracula from Project Gutenberg


Dracula (1931) Directed by Tod Browning
Despite a few nicely directed scenes and some interesting scenic design and cinematography, this film version of Dracula is everything that the novel isn't--ponderous, overwrought, slow, a bit boring, not particularly scary and unintentionally funny. Bela Lugosi's performance as the Count is pure camp, and the story has nothing to do with Bram Stoker's creation. But yet, Lugosi's image is the first thing we think of when Dracula's name is mentioned.

The film was a big hit, but it is the novel's influence that has had the greater impact on popular culture--just the opposite of what happened with Frankenstein. The current vampire craze takes its cues from Bram Stoker's story and has little or nothing to do with Bela Lugosi's incarnation of the character, iconic as it may be in a cartoonish kind of way. Again, cramming with this film before exams will yield disappointing results.

Watch the Dracula trailer on You Tube

 
The Invisible Man (1897) by H.G. Wells
This novella is sci-fi/horror personified with a twist of Plato. Wells' tale of a young, surly and frankly unpleasant scientist whose experiment with optics results in his becoming invisible and quite insane was based on the "Ring of Gyges" parable in Plato's Republic. In that story, a shepherd finds a ring that makes him invisible and uses his new power for personal gain at the expense of his moral reasoning. In Welles' story, the scientist Griffin terrorizes the southern English countryside with thieving, violence, extortion and other wholesome pastoral pursuits before meeting with his comeuppance. He is, in short, a complete jerk who, despite being seriously crazy, inspires none of the reader's sympathies. This book is all about terror, and Griffin in the novel is quite a bit more malevolent and sinister than his film counterpart. The Invisible Man is well crafted, succinct, provides plenty of thrills and suspense and is lots of fun.

Download The Invisible Man from Project Gutenberg


The Invisible Man (1933) Directed by James Whale
Again, James Whale created another masterpiece inspired by, yet distinct from, a literary classic that stands on its own. The screenplay doesn't strictly adhere to Welles' storyline and characters, but he does uncannily capture the spirit of the original work with a fine cast, state of the art special effects and an incredible performance from the great British stage and screen actor, Claude Rains. Like Lugosi and Karloff before him, Rains' performance actually defines the character in the consciousness of Western culture. It's actually pretty scary, which is not bad for a film that's eighty years old.

Watch The Invisible Man on You Tube


Here are a couple of links to books also mentioned in this post:

Download The Sorrows of Young Werther from Project Gutenberg

Download Plato's The Republic from Project Gutenberg


Happy Halloween!

A Newgate Novel Primer

Before the pulpy delights of Penny Dreadful magazines, the sensation novels of Wilkie Collins and the detective stories of Arthur Conan Doyle, there was the Newgate novel, an immensely popular though short-lived 19th century genre named after the infamous London prison. The Newgate novel broached hitherto taboo subjects, solidified the transformation of real life criminals into mainstream folk heroes and used time honored story structures, plot devices and character types that would become the standard archetypes for films and television so easily recognized by nearly every modern viewer and reader.



These works were tailor made for early Victorian-era readers who were both morally opposed to and yet strangely intrigued by crime, sex (for fun) and violence. Naturally, there was much critical backlash to these popular books. Authors, editors and booksellers were accused of glamorizing crime and corrupting youth. Sound familiar?



It's easy to understand why there was such a fuss; these books are fun to read, which is reason enough to provoke the guardians of good taste to rash action in any age. To be fair, in reality the historical figures depicted were indeed murderous, desperate people who committed terrible crimes and their images were indeed given a good spit shine to make them more palatable. Their authors told thrilling tales of adventure set against historic backdrops painted in vivid, vibrant Technicolor. Thus transformed by a bit of whitewash, these characters were recognizably human and familiar, struggling with the same moral dilemmas and feelings as their readers did and raising the ire of the Powers that Were in the 1830s.

Here are a few touchstones of the genre:



Moll Flanders (1721) by Daniel Defoe

Though written over a century before the genre would become popular, the origin of the Newgate tradition owes a great debt to Defoe and this book, one of the earliest English language novels. Moll Flanders is the fictional account of a penitent who looks back on her life of whoring, adultery, incest and thieving (in that order). Although her exploits are cast as sinful and wanton, the confession of her deeds reveals a woman of considerable skill and resourcefulness (not to mention desperation) in an age when women born into poverty had few options to support themselves, The tone of this first person narrative, though ostensibly repentant, reveals a character who is impossible to resist and easy to root for. Truly entertaining.



Download Moll Flanders at Project Gutenberg





Paul Clifford (1830) by Edward Bulwer-Lytton

This novel was credited with starting the Newgate craze that would last just under twenty years. It also has the dubious distinction of having a painfully cliched opening line that would become synonymous with bad fiction: "It was a dark and stormy night…"  There's even a writing contest at San Jose State University that celebrates bad fiction that bears the author's name. No matter. Bulwer-Lytton was mentioned in the same breath as Dickens and Thackeray in his day and his books were immensely popular. 



Paul Clifford is the entirely fictional story of a bright, cunning and handsome young man born into poverty whose career as a highway robber clashes with his increasing popularity in the circles of high society. His vocation belies his ancestry (but not his fate) as we learn of his true parentage, and this conflict comes to a head in the very melodramatic ending. Clifford's gang of fellow thieves offer some comic relief and even some moments of poignant philosophical pause about the nature of crime. The author's prose is long-winded and the dialogue can be a little stiff. Nearly every criminal character gets a chance to sing a song, printed in full, during several fraternal drinking parties and that tends to slow things down a bit.



Writing in the preface to the 1840 edition, Bulwer-Lytton claimed to have written the novel to show how Britain's penal system actually served to indoctrinate petty offenders, even those of "respectable" bloodlines, into a life of crime. This novel aims higher than mere exploitation, and his motivation for writing it is to Bulwer-Lytton's credit.



Download Paul Clifford at Project Gutenberg





Eugene Aram (1832) by Edward Bulwer-Lytton

Eugene Aram was a scholar and convicted murderer who was hanged in 1759 for murdering his business partner. His story was well known to readers via Thomas Hood's poem, The Dream of Eugene Aram. Taking several liberties with the facts of the case, Bulwer-Lytton uses Aram's story as a jumping off point to explore the psychology of a man of higher learning so deluded that he is capable of rationalizing the murder of another human being in order to obtain wealth that would enable him the independent means to study in seclusion. The main character's attempt to keep his dark secret from the woman he loves and her family is foiled by an extortion plot perpetrated by the lone witness to the crime and by Aram's own increasingly fragmented psyche. The psychological nature of this novel places its reach far ahead of its time well into the 20th century.



Download Eugene Aram at Project Gutenberg


Rookwood (1834) by William Harrison Ainsworth

William Harrison Ainsworth, who would go on to write the genre-defining Jack Sheppard in 1839 and dozens of highly entertaining historical novels, had a smashing success with this novel which portrayed the legendary highwayman Dick Turpin in the middle of a family drama for name, rights and fortune. There are some stunning descriptions of the Yorkshire countryside, especially in the depiction of Turpin's legendary (and highly improbable) overnight ride from London to York on his trusty mare, Black Bess. Many gothic elements are present--a Popish plot, scary Gypsy curses, midnight graveyard scenes--that strongly resonated with readers' imaginations and made this novel one of the most popular books of the 19th century. One caveat, however: As in Paul Clifford, more drunken ballads are sung by various highwaymen and creepy characters, mostly songs about themselves and how awesome and/or creepy they are.



Download Rookwood at Project Gutenberg





In the late 1830s, readers of the London literary magazine, Bentley's Miscellany avidly read simultaneously serialized installments of two enormously popular novels: Charles Dickens' Oliver Twist and William Ainsworth's Jack Sheppard. Both novels were controversial. Both novels took very different views of crime in society. One novel would become an enduring classic that transcended its genre while the other, like the Newgate novel itself, would fade into obscurity, but not without leaving its own stealthy but lasting influence.



Oliver Twist (1839) by Charles Dickens

This dark humored story of an orphaned boy who is victimized by the very authority figures who are entrusted to look out for his interests. Running away doesn't help much, as he is in turn victimized by a gang of petty thieves and pickpockets who try and fail to turn young Twist to a life of crime. Like Jack Sheppard, Twist's birth and bloodline are more auspicious than they seem to be. Unlike Jack Sheppard, prolonged exposure to criminals does little to corrupt him. Dickens' stark and realistic portrayal of the harrowing living conditions of the London underworld, his bitter contempt for the authorities in charge of the welfare of children and his portrayal of humane and sympathetic character, Nancy who loses her life trying to help the young boy, all gave fuel to the book's detractors who found it a depraved and corrupting influence, despite the happy ending. Though it lapses into unabashed sentimentality. this is a very well written story. The characters are richly drawn and the treacly sentiment is balanced by a very tart and perceptive wit and palpable human emotion. Even the cringe-inducing anti-Semitic stereotype of Fagin the Jew hasn't diminished its popularity.



Download Oliver Twist at Project Gutenberg





Jack Sheppard (1839) by William Harrison Ainsworth

If Oliver Twist was somewhat gratuitous in its sentimentality, Jack Sheppard is overtly gratuitous in its thrilling violence. Published in the same magazine at the same time as Dickens' novel, Jack Sheppard would become a lightning rod for controversy concerning the whole Newgate genre and prompt Dickens to distance himself from the author and to leave the staff of Bentley's Miscellany.

 

There is precious little social conscience in this tale of the real life folk hero whose exploits--including escaping from the authorities no less than three times before being captured and put to death--were seen as heroic by the oppressed classes. Again, we have present another Popish plot and yet another scramble to claim a respected and rightful name and bloodline, but the heart-stopping violence and creepiness are ratcheted up a few notches--so much so that it was considered a corrupting influence upon Victorian youth. 

Ainsworth's real virtues as a writer lie in his ability to tell a story, keep the action moving, and provide compelling historical context and detail that can only come from meticulous research. This edge-of-your-seat thriller spawned several stage productions that eventually prompted Parliament to ban any stage show with the words "Jack Sheppard" in the title, lest young people should be enticed to imitate any of the story's violent acts.



Download Jack Sheppard at Project Gutenberg





At their core, most of these works dared to ascribe all of the favored traits of English manhood--bravery, cheerfulness in the face of adversity, daring, honor and virtue--to criminals who were deemed socially and morally inferior beings wholly incapable of real feeling or integrity and certainly not the appropriate objects of hero worship. Even the fact that the characters convicted of crimes are almost invariably put to death or meet with a fatal end, did nothing to mollify critics. Indeed, they objected most strongly to criminals being portrayed as martyrs. There's apparently no pleasing some people. In a way, these novels present open challenge to such prejudices and, though entertainment is clearly the chief objective, their authors did sometimes manage to slip in a little constructive social criticism.



Save for Moll Flanders and Oliver Twist, all of these novels have fallen out of print and out of fashion not because they are necessarily bad books, but perhaps because their innovations have been so thoroughly absorbed into our culture that they don't seem so special on their own. For our purposes, they're just good fun to be had slightly off the beaten path of the classics of 19th century literature.






Here are a few more online resources about the Newgate novel tradition:

The Newgate Calendar 
Here's a site devoted to the Newgate Calendar, a salacious publication of the era filled with fascinating stories of crime and criminals that inspired Newgate fiction.

"The Newgate school of romance and its place in the English literature of the 1830s"
I found this academic article after writing this post. The fact that it is so critical of the genre made it very interesting reading. It basically treats Newgate novels like trash fiction, and while you'll get no argument from me on that score in most cases, I think that a culture's trash tells just as much if not more about itself than its treasures. This article presents an opposing viewpoint to mine on a couple of points, so I encourage you to read it and form your own opinion. There's a fair amount of space devoted to William Makepeace Thackeray's very vocal opposition to the genre and it explores the complexities of how Oliver Twist fits in with and differs from the style the Newgate school.

The Victorian Web
This is an incredible resource on the Victorian era including hundreds of articles about literature, culture, politics, philosophy, religion, etc. Fascinating stuff.