As handsome and as lively as ever

He looked as handsome and as lively as ever, and was talking with interest to a fashionable and pleasing-looking woman, who leant on his arm, and whom Catherine immediately guessed to be his sister…he had not behaved, he had not talked like the married men to whom she had been used; he had never mentioned a wife, and had acknowledged a sister…and therefore instead of turning of a deathlike paleness, and falling in a fit on Mrs Allen’s bosom, Catherine set erect, in the perfect use of her senses, and with cheeks only a little redder than usual.

Jane Austen being delightful in Northanger Abbey, perfect reading for this time of year and parties.

Viktoria Astrom

 

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Yet another illustrator who I’ve found via Instagram. I find it fascinating how Instagram has made it easier for these freelance artists to build an online portfolio and show their work off, without needing to go through building a website or hiring an agency.

This image came up on Viktoria’s Twitter and Instagram feeds and I’ve posted it because there’s something about it that reminds me of The Nutcracker. Maybe it’s the trees / wisps of woodsmoke / mysterious clouds in the background that give it a magical twist. For anyone looking for an individual present, Viktoria’s Etsy shop is here.

Eyes as big as plates

 

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How phenomenonally beautiful is this idea & this photo from Karoline Hjorth and Riita Ikonen? Their Kickstarter page is here & I wish I’d seen it when it was open. Instead I’ll keep an eye out for their book.

 

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The rhubarb camouflage made me laugh too – my dad has killed more rhubarb with his lawn mowing than a school kitchen’s worth of crumble, so this hideout would be perfect for him!

…even if business men scorn it

This book does not seem to be growing very large although I have got to Chapter Nine…I know this will never be a real book that business men in trains will read, the kind of business men that wear stuff hats with curly brims and little breathing holes let in the side. I wish I knew more about words. Also I wish so much I had learned my lessons in school. I never did, and have found it such a disadvantage since. All the same, I am going on writing this book even if business men scorn it.

Chapter Nine from “Our Spoons Came From Woolworths”, a novel by Barbara Comyns, who is one of my favourite authors for the way her artless voice skewers everyday life and whose writing in fact contains great skill. From later in the book, this passage always makes me laugh too:

“I knew it was Rollo. When he saw me bent over the disgusting jam [Sophia’s employer has asked her to make rhubarb jam on the hottest day of summer], he said ‘Good afternoon. How are you?’ and the girls seemed surprised he knew me. I hunched myself up and murmured ‘I’m feeling beastly, thank you’ and great puffs of jammy steam came in my face.

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I came across the work of Max Beckmann in the Met this week, and it seems a good fit for Barbara Comyns’ writing, not just in period but also the style of appearing extremely sunny in a manner that conceals great skill. This is Beckmann’s wife Quappi on the Riviera in 1926 (photo October 2016.)