Books, Botany, and Latinity!

The Chicago Botanic Gardens
Lenhardt Library

Over the 4th of July weekend, my family and I had the opportunity of visiting the Chicago Botanic Garden. I must admit, I was lexicographically and philologically perplexed by use of the terms "botanic" and "garden" in their specific arrangement. Like a good children's book narrator, hidden in the recesses of a the narrative itself, I asked the question: "why not botanical?"
And "why not gardens?" And as far as I could see, there was no definite article on the name: not "The Chicago Botanic Garden," just "Chicago Botanic Garden." It does appear that the definite article is often left out in other places, like ("the") Missouri Botanical Garden. (And note, they are "Botanical" not "Botanic." Yet New York has "The New York Botanical Garden," utilizing both the definite article and the -ical ending. Okay, I'm not completely pedantic, but I was curious. Heck, I would have just said "let's go for some creativity and call it "The Righteously Most Special Chicago and Environs Botanicalisticatious Gardens, Prairies, and Dirt Patches, along With Some Pretty Waterfalls that Were Artificially Created for Us City Folks to Gape at." Don't you all agree? Maybe a little too much, I know.

To the point, and I won't take too much of your time today, because I know I made some folks wither at my Iditarod-length blog entry on St. Louis and the ATLA conference, despite the sweetness you all gathered from my nectar'd prosody.














Nectar, pollen, botanicalistic gardens? Oh, yes. One of the highlights was the Bonsai trees at the left above, which were really quite delightful and extraordinary to look at. I wonder if there are any Lilliputians, who have attempted to harvest bonsai wood to create pulp for paper making? One step to go in the ancient art of book making. If I ever come across one of these Swiftian characters, I think I'll have to recommend they read the fine tome of Leonard N. Rosenband called "Papermaking in Eighteenth-Century France: Management, Labor, and Revolution at the Montgolfier Mill, 1761-1805," (2000). The Montgolfier brothers (Joseph-Michel and Jacques-Etienne) were the inventors of an early style hot air balloon. But this is so tangential, I had to put it in my blogoistic journal writing here. My ever elusive points were about bonsais, botanics, books, and papermaking among little people. Of course, these little people in the photo are my darling children. But they are not Lilliputians, at least they haven't told me otherwise.

The Lenhardt Library, which was closed the day we visited, appears to be a very well-lit, attractive, and moderately sized collection of botanic (or botanical) biblio-delights. The first photo on today's entry shows the entrance of the library with its name and hours of operation.
And I will direct you kind readers to the home page of the library, which is quite splendid and has some detailed information on hours, research, and periodic lectures given by library staff, docents, and others.

See the following link for the Gardens page:
http://www.chicagobotanic.org/library/index.php

One last comment before leaving you: the library homepage offers up a fine quote from the fine ol' attorney from Roman antiquity, the golden Cicero: "if you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need." Clearly a metaphysician too, or else he knew nothing of food and oxygen for mammalian sustainability! But in all seriousness, Cicero was a great Latin stylist. And his comment brings back many fine memories of my time living in Rome now near a decade ago. As my erstwhile master teacher of Latin and papal translator of all things Latinistique would say: "Cicero, the father of Latinity!--it's just so pure!" (accompanied by a puckered kiss of the air: either to the Lord or to BVM--the Catholics know what I'm talkin' 'bout!--or to the beautiful perfection of the Latin language coming forth from Cicero's quills!)



























I will first give all due credit to Father Coulter's website, from which I've copied this image of the great Reginaldus Foster (Milwaukeensis!). I may dedicate another blog space and time to this venerable Magnissimus of Latinity, but for now, I will relate one great vignette of Fosterity, which deals of course with Cicero. On a trip to one of Cicero's homes south of Rome, the good Father Foster brought us to the remnants of the home, which now has a great church built over it. He introduced us to a pork-pie penitent, the rotund-est of religious men, whose name
was classically Don Pedro! Vestments and all. I felt like Don Quixote was about come up from behind on a mule! But above on a hill behind the church, we sat next to a stream that was rather small, but near a spot where the stream split into two streams. We pulled out sheets of "Cicerprose" as I'll call it: writings of Cicero, and read them aloud in Latin like school children in a 1843 Prussian school house. We came upon a sentence that contained the word "fluvium" or some variation, and we translated it as "where the river split." Foster Maximus lifted his hand to the sky, evoking nothing less than Woton of the Italic peninsula and shouted: "That! That was Cicero: he wrote that HERE!" (Imagine a highly cadenced voice, soprano to baritone and back again, ending with a deep throated Pagliacci "HERE!"). Then Foster points to the river splitting in front of us. Ahhhhhh...too bad there were no trees with carvings showing "Cicero was here." Hic, Haec, Hoc!

From Books to Breweries: 2009 ATLA Conference in St. Louis

St. Louis Stories: Books, Churches, and Libraries, oh My!

The 2009 American Theological Library Association (ATLA) Annual Conference took place in the lovely and historical downtown St. Louis, Missouri this year. It was a dynamic and interesting conference in a dynamic and interesting city. The only complaints from most in attendance were that it was so hot and humid it felt like we were inside someone's mouth for five days--but with good views.

The view to the left is a photo I took of the Old Cathedral, which is situated across the street from the Millennium Hotel and just west of the famed St. Louis Arch designed by the Finnish architect Eero Saarinen. A brief aside: in the Old Courthouse (there seems to be an "old" everything in this city!--Old Courthouse, Old Post Office, Old Train Station...) there are blueprints of submissions to the contest, which was designed to invigorate the downtown area and waterfront. The other submissions were so lackluster, bland, and lacking any creativity, it was shocking! Saarinen's design is not only superb, but still evokes a modern beauty and dimension of stunning creativity a half century later. The Old Cathedral (another "old" thing) is an interesting place. I'd gone down to the Cathedral at just before 1PM on the first day I was in town, after I'd walked around the central downtown part of the city, exploring in the wretched heat. It was quite cool inside, even chilled like a meat locker, but with stations of the cross. Further down the page, I'll talk about the Cathedral again, but for now I should point out the curiosity of the facade here: there are several "inscriptions" (in fact, they are not inscribed, but appear more to be cemented on) on the higher
relief portions of the facade in different languages (Latin, Hebrew). Most notably, front and center is the tetragrammaton "YHWH" in Hebrew letters!

DAY 1 (Wed.):

Welcome to St. Louis!
Teutenberg's
St. Louis Public Library
Left Bank Books
Earth as Book?
Books in Churches

Botanical Garden Collections
Missouri Botanical Garden

Soon after arrival at the Millennium Hotel in downtown St. Louis, I ventured out into the steam of this old Mississippi port town. Not far from the hotel, just due north about two blocks, was the Old Court House. According to the St. Louis Front Page, which can be found at the following URL (http://www.slfp.com/OldCourthouse.html), there are great historical events tied up in this monument of legal architecture:

In 1826, construction of the original Federal Style Courthouse began on land donated for use as a public square by Auguste Chouteau and J.B.C. Lucas. Construction on the existing Greek Revival style Courthouse began in 1839 and continued through several transitions until 1862.

The courthouse was the scene of many rallies, speeches and several important trials, including the suit by Dred Scott for freedom from slavery and Suffragist Virginia Louisa Minor for the right to vote.

I spent a little while in the Courthouse museum, checking out its book shop and exhibits, before exploring other parts of the city. It was nicely air conditioned, but I'd come back the next day to explore the rotunda, court rooms, and Jefferson National Expansion Memorial Library on the 2nd floor.

After checking out a tourist kiosk, I found only a few blocks north of the park behind the Old Courthouse a hamburger joint. Most surprising, though, besides the inexpensive cost of the food (Teutenburger, fries, and a drink for under $10), was a) there were people smoking inside the restaurant! and b) the place, called Tuetenberg's, is a family-owned eatery that has been in and around St. Louis for 198 years!--yes, nearly 200 years! I had no idea there was even a "St. Louis" in 1812. Simply shocking. They've modernized of course (except for the smoking). I mean, they're not in some old tavern with tricorn'd hats and muskets. But they are the same family. It must be eight generations or so. And there were several photos of family members up on the wall. The above photo is of an old Teutenberg menu.

The Old Post Office: St. Louis Public Library

After sating my hunger, I walked westward a few blocks, until I came to this majestic and lovely building, called "The Old Post Office." I ventured in to find (of course, to my great delight) that this building now housed several interesting museum and library spaces. Notably, there was the St. Louis Public Library (branch), seen here at left, with magnificently ornate creme caramel pillars, along with ample lighting and comfortable seating. There were display tables containing German language books about the early 20th century tornadoes (~1906) that struck St. Louis and caused havoc and damage in the entire region. In an adjacent room was a small museum of the US Customs Office, which was very interesting. The building also houses a branch of Webster University on a lower floor, and the St. Louis Business Journal. I'd taken a photo of the Business Journal offices, especially a lovely bookshelf containing runs of bound years of its publication, but the photo didn't come out well.

Inside of the branch library, there was something of interest that I wanted to point out. In the children's section of the library, there was this lovely floor mat and lounging area (seen at left). Kids can come into the library, get their books, and lay down on the mat and read. But what I'm not showing you here is the view that you see when you look up at the ceiling, which is a painting of some magical monster and cartoon character. They certainly try their best to make your reading environment pleasant and memorable.



Once I left the Old Post Office building, I walked a few blocks westward. I asked two men (dressed in bow-ties) and talking presumably about financial matters, if there were any bookstores in the area. And just my luck: only two blocks away there was a fine book shop--an independent book shop, in fact, called Left Bank Books. According to the Left Bank Books website (which also appears on the banner at left: www.left-bank.com):

Founded in 1969, Left Bank Books is an independently-owned bookstore offering a full-line of books and services in the greater metropolitan area of St. Louis.

Our flagship store is located at Euclid and McPherson in the historic Central West End neighborhood, situated among magnificent turn-of-the-century residences and some of the best restaurants and finest art galleries in the area.

Our second location opened in late 2008 in the heart of downtown St. Louis at 10th and Locust, where an exciting renaissance in urban living, working and tourism is underway.

Our mission has always been to offer an intelligent, culturally diverse selection of titles with a focus on politics, contemporary arts and literature, high-quality children’s books, African American interest, GLBT titles and more.

Left Bank Books regulars are a fiercely loyal group. At the suggestion of a couple of these fiercely loyal customers, Left Bank Books founded its membership organization, Friends-of-Left-Bank-Books-Literary-Society. By joining The Friends, you can support a local treasure and, in addition to helping to ensure our continued existence, you can also receive wonderful extras like a Friends discount, access to our wildly popular twice-yearly Friends-only sales, and invitations to private receptions with authors. Left Bank Books owners and workers are also a fiercely committed group.

So there we have it. This photo to the left is at the newer branch downtown. If you're not able to open the "Friends of Left Bank Books Literary Society," you can find their site at this URL:

http://www.left-bank.com/friends-left-bank-books-literary-society

Earth as Text?

It was getting warmer, so it felt, just past noon. So I headed back toward the hotel. I had to go back anyhow, since I was set to go on a bus tour at 1:30 that would end up at the Missouri Botanical Gardens. So I needed to be punctual.

On the way, I encountered something. This fairly curious item caught my attention as I was crossing the street some half dozen blocks from the hotel. I retraced my steps and looked at it again, and thought of it as an example of "earth as text" or "earth as book," maybe even "pavement as book!" Well, it is some sort of imprint of text into the pavement, which looks moderately permanent (if that's not a paradox!) I'm not sure exactly what it says or what it is trying to report, but I wanted to share it with the reading public, and elicit comments perhaps on its idiosyncratic nature. I'm sure there is something profound to be said amid all the platitudes!

The Old Cathedral (St. Louis, King)

Before I arrived back at the hotel, I stopped by the Old Cathedral, which was only a block downhill from the Millennium Hotel. I took a photo of some books on pews in the front of the church, specifically "Missalettes." What a lovely sounding word: missalette. It's kind of toasty, with a blend of cumin butter and fresh peppermint greens. At least, that's what comes to mind when I hear the word. In the background is a statue of the historically iracible Jeanne d'Arc (which sounds better than "Joan of Arc"--a name conjuring more of a comely, approned Julia Child on the boat with Noah). As you can see, the inside of the Old Cathedral is a darling place, with a mixture of American colonial and neo-Francophilic artistry (I just made that up). Here's a fine website describing the history of the Old Cathedral:

http://www.catholic-forum.com/churches/140stlouis/history.html

Missouri Botanical Garden, Library, and Specimen Collections

The Missouri Botanical Garden Library can be found at the following links. The second one links directly to the special and rare books collections:

http://www.mobot.org/mobot/molib/

http://www.illustratedgarden.org/mobot/rarebooks/

This is a phenomenal collection. At left is a photo of the reference and main reading room of the library. If you were to walk to the right in this room, you'd be in the area where book holdings are located. There is another area, where the millions of plant specimens are held, which I believe is on a lower level.

In the photo at left is one shelving unit of the specimens collections. According to our tour guide, who was also a botanical and horticultural librarian, there are nearly 7 million individual specimens classified and cataloged in this collection--second largest in size in the entire world, after Kew Gardens, London. This astounding collection is also very old, holding specimens that have been collected from as far back as the 18th century. So more than two centuries of specimen collecting can be found in these shelving units.

The rare books collection, seen at left and below, contained many intriguing items, most of which were printed between 1470 and 1800. Many of them focus on topics of plant history and related branches of historical knowledge in pre-Linnean taxonomy (focused on Carl Linneaus' Systema Naturae of 1735). A very interesting book was one which included a colored in drawing of the German Physician Leonhart Fuchs (1501-1566), after whom the flower and color fuchsia are named. Fuchs is often considered one of the triumvirate of men to found the study of botany (which included Hieronymous Bock and Otto Brunfels). As you may see from both the image above and below to the left, there were dozens of books on display in a darkened room with specialized lighting. In toto, though, there were thousands of books of varying content and specializations.

Below is an image of specimens on display, including coconuts and other items from Central America. Grasses and other samples are included in the lot, but most suprisingly, even shockingly, was a specimen below (closest in foreground), which had been collected, mounted, and described by none other than Charles Darwin! I was leaning on it, then out of great surprise, moved back and gave it some due respect...casting my spirited gaze over the signature "Charles Darwin" so clearly inscribed!

Henry Shaw's House and Books:

Henry Shaw (1800-89) was a philanthropist and founder of the famed Missouri Botanical Gardens. Through his generosity, genius, and forethought, he managed to set up a very complex, yet functional society, which is now celebrating its 150th year. After visiting the library of the Botanical Gardens above, I went to the gardens themselves, just a few blocks away. In the gardens one can visit Shaw's homes: both his city home, which had been moved at one point, block-by-block, from downtown to the present location in the gardens, and the country home.

I visited Henry Shaw's "country" home, which is located inside of the botanical garden itself. And I photographed some of his books, which apparently really belonged to him--they weren't just display books. There is an interesting blog that I will post here, which is celebrating the 150th anniversary of the botanical garden this year. The blog details entries written by Shaw himself in his diaries, and is quite interesting. See the following:
http://www.mobot.org/blog/travelswithhenry/index.html

We see an open book here to the left. Perhaps some ledger or diary or day book.

DAY 2: (Thur.): Hermeneutics and Such

The Wonder of Luther Smith

On the Hermeneutics of Books

Jefferson National Expansion Memorial Library and Archives

Today was the first full day of the ATLA conference. And our first major session was a speech given by Prof. Luther Smith, which was profound and outstanding: one of the best I've heard. In short, it was on the idea of "relevance," and I admitted later that I borrowed some of his key points in my own lecture that followed.

My paper was entitled "On the Hermeneutics of Books..." in short. And dealt with how seminary students perceive of books in their imaginations before they even approach them on shelves. For instance, I explored how students might think of books contextually in temporal and spatial locations and then asked them questions about how they approached books, whether they needed to interact with books physically or tactilely on library stacks, or if it was important to see books and theological libraries as integral to future libraries. I also compared hermeneutical approaches of Gadamer and other philosophers with the practical hermeneutical approaches of piano theorists from the 19th century, in order to explore the real idea of "approaching" and "encountering" the book-object as text and artifact. I think the paper was successful, as it was well attended and no one threw rotten tomatoes at me. Thank God I don't have any lycopersicum allergies! I'd have to rethink my whole idea of the perception of tomato hermeneutics.

Jefferson National Expansion Memorial Library

To the left is the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial Library and Archives on the 2nd floor of the Old Courthouse, which I discussed briefly above. This somewhat hidden library resides in a recess above the first floor museum dedicated to St. Louis history. According to the National Park Service (.gov) site, the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial Library and Archives provides innumerable services and resources for the scholar and researcher of early American expansion and exploration of the west. This remarkable collection may even be considered the core of "expansionist" studies in the United States. I spoke with the library staff, who were very kind and helpful. According to the government's library site:

The JNEM Library is a research facility available to researchers studying American westward expansion and related subjects. The library is open for research Monday-Friday, 8:00 a.m. to 4:30 p.m., excluding federal holidays. It is located on the second floor of the historic Old Courthouse at Broadway and Market Streets in downtown St. Louis.

I managed to return to this library in the afternoon after my paper and some other sessions. It was quiet pleasant and I spoke to the librarians there briefly. Before going on a walk and soon after heading out to the lovely Forest Park district, where I had a fish fry dinner at a restaurant called the Boat House, overlooking a pond, presumably designed for the 1904 World's Fair--considered to be the great historical event of St. Louis' illustrious past. The Fair commemorated the 100th anniversary of the Louisiana Purchase.

DAY 3: (Fri.): Brewery, Beatific Bike Rides, Blynken, and Books

In the hot afternoon of Friday, after I had finished my conference duties, I took a bike ride with my librarian-in-arms, Karl Stutzman, who is one of the librarians extraordinaire at Associated Mennonite Biblical Seminary, in Elkhart, Indiana (which I had the great pleasure to visit back in April). Karl and I borrowed bikes from the hotel and cut our way through the fleshy and tumescent humidity (really!) to get a free tour at the Budweiser factory...and of course, to get our free beer samples at the end of the 50 minutes tours!

Books and Churches: St. Peter and Paul Catholic Church

On the way back from the Brewery, we decided to stop by the lovely old Catholic Church that we had passed earlier on the way out. It turned out to be St. Peter and Paul Catholic Church. We entered into the beautiful sanctuary and were greeted by "St. Andrew" the sexton (I introduced myself as Anthony, and he said "St. Anthony!"), whose family came over from Ukraine via Vienna in 1913, and been at the church since 1959--he kept trying to make us "Catholic" by getting "re-married" in his chapel! Funny guy! Bet he's said that to a few thousand folks by now.

Above, I took some photos of books in the church, including one of a quasi-fresco of one of the holy gospel writers (if I remember correctly) holding a book of some design; then some hymnals and missals and preaching aides; the second photo was hidden near the altar, while the books on the chair were in the middle of the sanctuary. Below is a photo of me with Andrew the sexton. The other photo is of super-librarian Karl, post-pivo (that's Slavic for "after beer"), and post-encounter-with-St. Andrew-the-sexton. We were getting ready to mount our 1950s style hotel bikes, which the Millennium Hotel was so kind to offer us.

After the Catholic Church, we passed just a few blocks down the street the famed Trinity Lutheran Church. The website of the church describes it as:

...located in the heart of Soulard. Trinity Lutheran Church houses the oldest Lutheran congregation west of the Mississippi River.

And more can be found at the church's website:

http://www.trinitystlouis.com/

The metal plate at left tells a brief history of the congregation. And as the website notes, it is very close to the famed Soulard Market, itself an extraordinary locale. This neighborhood is a magnificent example of the old German style brick homes in St. Louis. You get the feeling when you drive or bike around that a whole bunch of Teutonic architects flooded into the city mid-century in the 1800s and just decided to recreate their Swabische or Palatinate "dorfs" in brick replica. They are quite beautiful and ornate and stand out among mid-century American urban architecture. Next time I go back to St. Louis, I'd like to search for some of the home of the St. Louis Hegelians, the philosophical group led by Henry Brokmeyer. Just curious, of course.

Kids Stuff...Well, Sorta!

Finally getting back from the bike ride, only a few blocks from the Millennium Hotel, I discovered the home of the author of children's books "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod," Eugene Field, Sr. (1850-1895), which I had spotted earlier in the day, but had now closed, just minutes before returning to the doorstep of his home. And turns out his father was Dred Scott's attorney! Ah, the magic life of history.

DAY 4: (Sat.): Concordia Seminary
Basement Bargains
Library of the Missouri Historical Society
Covenant Seminary PCA
BUSCAPADES!

Concordia LIBRARY:

On Saturday, we took a bus out to Concordia Seminary (Lutheran Church, Missouri Synod). We attended the annual memorial service, visited the library, and attended sessions. I also did a little exploration in the neighborhood.

To the left is a photo (which didn't come out properly, because of too much flash!) of a Missouri Synod hymnal. I'm holding the hymnal in the newly constructed (within the last decade) chapel of the seminary. For those of you on the ELCA side of things, the hymnal didn't bite. I thought it would too. (But we learn!)


And in the entrance to the Concordia Library, there was a fine exhibit of icons and iconography. Here is one example of an icon (presumably the one and only JC in regal byzantine glory) holding "a book."

The Bach Bible:

At left is the so-called "Bach Bible." It is actually one of a three volume Bible Commentary "compiled by the 17th-century theologian Abraham Calov and once in the library of JS Bach," (according to the Concordia Seminary website). If you look carefully at my grainy and dark photo, you can see marginalia on the left page of the Bible--these markings are in JS Bach's own hand! Ahhhh, simply delightful!

Bargain Basement Books:

In my explorations, I discovered that under one of the buildings at Concordia Seminary was a "basement thrift shop." Now those of you who know me, know that the "thrift shop" often yields the greatest surprises when it comes to books. See my blog entry on "Axiologies and Books" from a couple weeks ago. To the left is one of the shelving units holding the scores of "thrift books." I purchased two items: a history of the influenza outbreak of 1918 and one volume from a multi-volume biography of none other than our friend JS Bach, whose Bible I had seen not twenty minutes earlier!

MISSOURI HISTORY MUSEUM LIBRARY:

About four blocks northeast from Concordia Seminary is the Missouri Historical Museum Library and Research Center. This remarkable library was once a synagogue, but was renovated into a library and research institute. You can find more information about it at the following link:

http://www.mohistory.org/lrc-home/

The research mission of the center can best be described by a statement on their webpage:

"The Missouri History Museum's research collections contain unique regional history sources and objects documenting St. Louis, Missouri, the Mississippi and Missouri Valleys, the Louisiana Purchase Territory and the American West. An integrated and multi-format collection, it serves an audience of diverse local, national and international readers and researchers."

Below I took a photo of one of their card catalogs. What is interesting is that this card catalog represents ephemera and other miscellany only. It includes photos, newsclippings, and other hard to classify items.

After I left the library, I went to a nice little cafe near Concordia Park and Seminary, called Kaldi Cafe. I arranged my deliciously decadent whipped coffee drink among my book-catches of the day: my "influenza" book and the Bach biography.














COVENANT LIBRARY:

The afternoon on Saturday was spent by some at the conference traveling to Covenant Seminary, part of the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA). PCA is a sibling to the PC(USA), which counts McCormick Theological Seminary (one of my employers) among its ranks (depending who you talk to these days!) But that's neither here nor there. What's important is that the tour of Covenant Seminary was delightful, and especially its new library and collections--some of which we see below. The library's official name is the "J. Oliver Buswell Jr. Library." In the foyer of this very pleasant learning space is a finely cast portrait of the good Dr. Buswell, which I took a photo of, but again, the glare of my flash did not render it usable for blogworthy display. Apologies, Dr. Buswell.

At left are shelves of early editions of Calvin's collected works in the Tait Rare Book Collection.
The Buswell website describes the room as:

The Tait Rare Book Collection houses over 1,000 works from as far back as 1540. The primary focus of the collection is English Puritan works from the 17th and 18th centuries. The collection also contains many works and sermons from early Reformers and others since the Reformation.

The collection was given by a man named Tait, whom I believe was an avid bibliophile and collector from Britain, but I may have to be corrected by the kind folks at Covenant on this one. I did not find additional information on good man Tait at the time of writing this blog entry.

Nevertheless, at left is a fine set of rare books, which I thought suitable for showing all of you in the blogosphere. Most interesting is this furry looking tome, which appears to be covered in the pelt of a bear, or some other "tundraesque" mammal in need of warmth. It wasn't that cold in the rare book room...hmmmmm??

Also in one hidden room in the Buswell Library, was this delightful area--every library's got one! It was where processing takes place. Note the fabulous pipe system behind the books. Let's hope for no leaks! (Where else can we process these books!?) "Luv it" to quote the kids.

Hero of the Month: Master Archivist Extraordinaire!

Now this was a real treat and truly a highlight of the afternoon. On the tour of the Buswell Library, we had the opportunity to visit the "PCA Historical Center" and Archives and Manuscripts Repository on the lower level of Buswell. At left is our most gracious host and director of the center, the good Mr. Wayne Sparkman (who by the way is very photogenic, despite his protests!)

I just want to thank Mr. Sparkman for showing us these wonderful and rich collections. I was thoroughly impressed. So too was I by the fabulous work he has continued to do with these archives. In a pamphlet from the center, Mr. Sparkman has outlined in meticulous detail, the variety of research collections and options available to scholars, bibliophiles, "archivodouls," and other metaphysicians of the acid-free-box-arts. Among the great treasures here are various denominational records, manuscript collections, and the oral history program. Many lauds to our friend and colleague, Wayne Sparkman! Thanks so much for the tour!

Buscapades!

Need I say more? Only one thing: as this is a blog about "books and biblios," please do take notice of our dear friend Joanna DeYoung tossing a book-block (mid-air!) to a group of manly men theological librarians, who are attempting to give traction to this 42,000 ton bus. Good luck guys! You can do it! (Mid-air!--I can't believe I got that shot with an old fashioned film camera!)

DAY 5: (Sun.)--FATHER'S DAY

Bike Ride through the City (Old North St. Louis)

Happy Father's Day Harry S Truman! Truman was a reader...just ask David McCullough! Even though the sun was ablazin' this morning, this neon Truman brightened my morning not too far from the Old Post Office building.







Though it may be hard to see for you kind readers, I snapped a photo of this Church Book Store located inside of Christ Church Cathedral, not too far from the main building of the St. Louis Public Library, located about a two blocks west of this photo.






St. Louis Public Library

Though I didn't get a chance to actually go into the main library, I did come across it on my early Sunday morning bike ride. It was a fine sized building and had some great art exhibits displayed out front. The park to my left was abuzz with some local flaneurs smoking pipes that didn't quite smell right. Welcome to city livin'!




Some More Churches to the Northwest

I continued up to the district known as the Old North St. Louis neighborhood. As I saw some churches in the not too far distance, I headed over toward them with some curiosity. At the left I found the St. Stanislaus Polish Church and community center. The St. Louis neighborhoods website describes the church as follows:

"St. Stanislaus Kostka Polish Catholic church at 1407 North 20th Street was the first of its kind in the city. The parish was organized in 1879 for Poles then residing in the Kerry Patch area. Their first church, staffed by Franciscan fathers, was completed in 1882. The present church, erected at a cost of $150,000 was dedicated in 1892. St. Stanislaus became the mother church for three other Polish Catholic parishes in St. Louis."

Just to the north of here was a very interesting building: the former Falstaff Brewing Corporation, which had a very tall smoke stack. It appeared to have been recently converted into a condo complex. Now who of you out there can say they live in an old brauhaus?

Up the block on 20th Street, I found another church: Zion Lutheran Church. I gazed up at the fine architecture and then discovered that a clergy with his white starched collar was getting out of his car across the street. I asked him if this was his parish, and he said yes. We chatted a bit, and discovered his name to be Rev. Ruff--I think his first name was Roger. He told me the congregation was down to a handful of members, but he then invited me into breakfast, which I had to politely decline, as my flight back to Chicago was fast approaching. The same St. Louis Neighborhood website (which I list below) describes this church's history nicely:

"Zion Lutheran Church was an offshoot from the Immanuel Church, which built a school at 14th and Warren Streets in 1859. The first Zion Church was built at 15th and Warren in 1860, and the congregation moved to the present church at 21st and Benton Streets following its dedication in 1895. The impressive limestone structure in the German Gothic style was designed by Albert Knell at a cost of $83,725. Its auditorium seats 1400 and has an elaborate altar of Italian marble. The Zion school on Benton Street was begun in 1909 and enlarged in 1929."

see link: http://stlouis.missouri.org/neighborhoods/history/north/churches22.htm

One Last Old Remnant of Old North St. Louis

Last but not Liborius? Well, actually, yes! This fabulous old German-style church had fallen into disuse and some disrepair. The adjacent building to the left had been converted into apartments. I could see a woman drinking tea through one open window, where clothes were drying on a ledge.

It was grand and beautiful in red brick, with distinct masonry and design. I think it said it was built A.D. 1914 or so. A shame it is in ruin...or coming to that. This was a common site in this part of the city that was also marked by attempts at revitalizing through new construction town homes. Upon closer examination and some research, I discovered this church was St. Liborius German Catholic Church. The website again describes the parish nicely:

"St. Liborius German Catholic parish was organized as an offshoot of St. Joseph's in 1855. A church was built at Hogan and North Market Streets in 1857 and schools were erected in 1859 and 1865. The present church as completed in 1889 and featured a 265 foot stone lace-work steeple similar to that of Freiburg Cathedral in Germany. This was removed in 1966. The present school was built in 1886 and the rectory in 1890. The church is notable for its imported altar and stained glass windows."

Notice the similarities and differences between the two photos.

Below now, as I finally complete this entry on ATLA, which I hope you've enjoyed, I will leave you with a brief sketch of the neighborhood I drove through (Old North St. Louis). I know this is a bit of an anticlimactic visual, but I think by now you're as tired as I am. Hope you've enjoyed!

And remember: more entries to come soon!

Finally: "Jeder stirbt für sich allein" in English!

What about Hans Fallada?

Again: June 27, 2009--before I came upon my afternoon find of "The Anatomy of Melancholy," I had gone to a yard sale in the morning, just north of my home on the 5200 block of Dorchester.  Oddly, and I say oddly with a fresh sense of curiosity, almost none of the dozen homes selling their wares were selling books!  This is unheard of in Hyde Park.  In fact, it was a travesty.  But what I did notice (as I almost always do) was that one older woman, who was selling dresses and some household items, was sitting in her lawn chair on the corner, reading a book entitled "Every Man Dies Alone" (German: Jeder stirbt fur sich allein--I'm missing an umlaut, my apologies), written by Hans Fallada.  Returning home later, I discovered these facts.  The book at first glance on the woman's chair looked like a companion to the Wally Lamb style books that have infiltrated the American consciousness, but the name "Hans Fallada" struck me as too different to be some hamburger American novelist.  So I went a huntin' for some information on this book and its author.  And what I found was both profound and astonishing, in many ways.

First of all, Fallada is a pseudonym: the real Fallada was born Rudolf W.F. Ditzen (1894-1947), and turns out to have been one of Germany's most famous writers!  I'm ashamed for not already knowing that, as I've had my share dipping into the Heinrich Boll's and Gunther Grass's of this world, among others.  Somehow, I never found old Fallada.  But there are other extraordinary aspects to this individual and his life and work.  Supposedly this massive tome was written in just over three weeks (like Handel and his Messiah).  This is an extraordinary event, especially since the book itself is rather lengthy (over 500 pages in translation).  But the story too is extraordinary: described by Publishers Weekly as "inspired by the true story of Otto and Elsie Hampel, who scattered postcards advocating civil disobedience throughout war-time Nazi-controlled Berlin."  This will certainly be a book on my reading list!

But for today, even though I am posting this on July 1st, the same day that I posted my blog on Burton's "Anatomy of Melancholy,"I will leave you with a taste of critical appraisal from theNew Yorker's fine ink wells:

Fallada wrote this novel in twenty-four days in 1947, the last year of his life; he was addicted to drugs and alcohol, and had just been released from a Nazi insane asylum. The story is based on that of an actual working-class Berlin couple who conducted a three-year resistance campaign against the Nazis, by leaving anonymous postcards at random locations around the city. The book has the suspense of a John le Carré novel, and offers a visceral, chilling portrait of the distrust that permeated everyday German life during the war. Especially interesting are the details that show how Nazi-run charities and labor organizations monitored and made public the degree to which individuals supported or eschewed their cause. The novel shows how acts that at the time might have seemed “ridiculously small,” “discreet,” and “out of the way” could have profound and lasting meaning. 

Ah, the true stories in fiction: 'tis a beautiful thing.  I think I'll be revisiting Fallada and his works and reporting back to you kindest of readers... .  Thanks readers.  And thanks Fallada.

The Anatomy of Melancholy

       Dr. Arrowsmith...Have We Found the Soul Yet?

June 27, 2009: On my way to the Point in Hyde Park to cool off during the warming temperatures of the mid-afternoon.  Low and behold: boxes!  Yes, yet again, the perennial "book boxes" of Hyde Park.  The boxes in front of this particular home appear now and then filled with various and sundry titles, from mysteries and popular fiction to the miscellany of today: short tracts of medieval French literature, 3 volumes of Trotsky's History of the Russian Revolution (in hard back), and Robert Burton's (1577-1640) masterpiece The Anatomy of Melancholy.  

Ah, so where do I begin?  With the illustrious Burton himself or the masterful and ill-definedAnatomy...?  Well, first of all, let me say this: the book is gigantic--well over 1,000 pages.  And it is at first glance a perplexing book, because it does not indicate to the reader or observer of the tome its elemental genre.  But this is where the good Mr. Burton comes into view.

Robert Burton was a man of many talents, to use that far overused phrase.  But that is perhaps because he was a man of an age when many talents were necessary to survive in a difficult world that was understood primarily through humors and heavens.  Nonetheless, Burton was a renaissance man in a renaissance era.  And as some scholars and commentators have noted, his chief work, The Anatomy of Melancholy, is a reflection of his own dealings and coming to terms with depression.  Whatever the truth on this subject is, what is surely accurate is that this work is not simply a discussion of melancholy or melancholia, but a mirror of intellect, humanity, and selves in the the late 16th and early 17th centuries.  This book is no mere description or digression into the humors and dissections of the human pains suffered through metaphorical slings and arrows of outrageous fortune...to quote some old Dane in his own perplexities, but a complete anatomy of "man in the world," to use an anachronistic moniker.  The book reflects the library of the 17th century, as others have suggested.  In fact, writer Nicholas Lezard from The Guardian, wrote about The Anatomy of Melancholy in a 2001 essay, calling it "The Book to end all Books."  He also notes:

Paperback not so much of the week as of the year, of the decade - or, I am inclined to say, of all time. And why? Because it's the best book ever written, that's why. I use the word "book" with care. It's not a novel, a tract, an epic poem, a history; it is, quite self-consciously, the book to end all books. Made out of all the books that existed in a 17th-century library, it was compiled in order to explain and account for all human emotion and thought. It is not restricted to melancholy, or, as we call it today, depression; but then a true study of it will have to be - if you have the learning and the stamina - about everything. That is why there are about 1,400 pages in this edition, why the only other edition, from Clarendon Press, runs to three volumes (it also costs a bomb compared to this and is, anyway, out of print), and why Burton never, strictly speaking, finished it: there was always something else to go in.

If you're interested in more of what Mr. Lezard writes, you can find the entire article at the following link: 

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2001/aug/18/history.philosophy

VADE LIBER...! Something like "Go forth, my book!" as some Latinists might agree upon, is what begins a poem in this tome entitled "Democritus Junior ad Librum Suum" (Democritus Junior to his Book).  He is the departure point for Burton: Democritus, as described by Hippocrates et al., was a "little wearish old man, very melancholy by nature...," (Burton, 16).  But this Democritus, who tends to his garden, is the foil for good old feelin'-blue Burton and his bouts of depression and melancholia.  Burton embodies himself and his woes in a classical soul, a classical identity, which gives his own troubles both prominence and patience, strength and durability, intellectual weight and severity.  And then takes it further.  After a moderate helping of philosophical appetizers, the whetted palate of the reader will be set to a full banquet of melancholic platters, in three refined sections--of course, these are the refinements of the 17th century, so tastes may vary.  But the basic structure is as follows:

PART I:  

Section 1: Of Disease...and Melancholy; With a Digression of Anatomy

Section 2: Causes of Melancholy

Section 3: Symptoms of Melancholy

Section 4: Prognostics of Melancholy

MY COMMENTS:  Ah, how diseased we are by this thing called melancholy!  Yet, this apparently medical investigation is nothing like a "modern" medical discourse.  It details in playful language the observations of such things as "love of gaming," which could mean many things.  But goes into the pleasure of hunting, and even takes note of popes with the joyously

creative line: "Leo Decimus, that hunting pope, is much discommended by Jovius in his life, for his immoderate desire of hawking and hunting, insomuch that (as he saith) he would sometimes live about Ostia weeks and months together, leave suitors unrespected, bulls and pardons unsigned, to his own prejudice and many private men's loss."  Oh, those hunting popes!  Just imagine old John Paul II lifting his Remington to de-blossom some Roman pigeons in the rafters or below some pre-Rafealite cornice for his squab pranzo!  Needless to say, perhaps, this is not the perfect picture for some.  Yet, the paradox to be found in Part 1, I believe, is not in the encyclopedic consultation of old post-Hippocratic wanderings, but under the heading "SUBJECT XV. Love of Learning, or overmuch Study.  With a Digression of the Misery of Scholars, and why Muses are Melancholy."  Good heavens--it is as Burton writes, this malady of the intellectual soul, a reason for melancholy, the student and scholar lives sibi et musis!(for themselves and their studies!)  Doom is approaching!

PART 2:

Section 1: Cure of Melancholy in General 

Section 2: Diet...with a Digression of Air

Section 3: A Digression of Remedies...

Section 4: Medicinal and Chirurgical Remedies...

Section 5: Particular Cures

MY COMMENTS: Is this what we might call "The Audacity to Cope!?"  I think our president already has this copyrighted.  My apologies.  It does appear, though, that amid this coping, our good Mr. Burton suggests such things as "hot sod" for dealing with melancholy.  And I don't think this is something to be applied like a nicotine patch, rather to be ingested like a licorice stick!  Yum!  But also, "mountain birds," "succory," "endive,"  and "parsnips," may add to our melancholic health.  And oddly, the very corruption of the soul founded in too much sport hunting, is the very thing that may also help us.  I suppose Mr. Burton approves mostly of moderation.  (Though, I was once told "Everything in Moderation...including Moderation!")  Think about it.

PART 3: 

Section 1: Love and its Objects

Section 2: Love-Melancholy

Section 3: Jealousy

Section 4: Religious Melancholy

  

MY COMMENTS:  It is a rascally thing this love and religious melancholy.  But for Burton, it almost falls into a rambling pit of Roquefort-making platitudes that I am too loathe to entertain now.  Well, perhaps not that bad!  It's simply too early in the morning for me to be quoting his Latin verses of amore, which evoke something less than a hirsute gladiator mumbling joylessly some anachronistic misogynies on the benefits of his "uxor": "Optima viri possessio est uxor benevola!" (Man's best possession is a loving wife!)  And goodness, that is what we have for Mr. Burton in a nutshell.  But readers: be not dissuaded from this tome and its magnificence.  It contains the nuggets, the pearls! of beauty and humor all among its idiosyncratic blessings.  I'm doing the poorest of justices to it.  Shame on me.

Soteriology of Books?  Who's Saving Whom?

Now I do have an additional comment about finding books.  And specifically, finding books among the "jumbled heap" (to quote my friend Chad) of the book boxes on the street.  You see, after I'd found this lovely and lively Burton book the other day, I went back on a secret mission in the early evening hours, to save those remnant books from the potential and threatening rains.  I did not want whatever was left to be drenched and drowned.  Saving!  Saving!  Saving books, objects, anthropomorphized entities, extensions of the self!?  Well, perhaps not that far, but some folks do believe this.  And in this brief soteriological gesture (indeed, this is a wholly / holy other blog!), I went, I returned... (And I returned in great need...like this medieval monk above, who had a need to save the wine in his monastic basement.  Remember, he's not doing it for the himself, but for the wine...wink, wink!)

And Returning in the evening...to "save the books from the rains!"  What did I find?  There were no books, the box was empty.  I was glad.  I was glad that someone else had saved them...saved those Trotsky writings from the brutality of the rains and winds and elements collectively.  And I returned a second (or was it third time?) to that house and to those boxes.  The next day (Sunday), there were more boxes, three boxes in fact.  Most of the books were junky (ah, another moment of Biblioschade!--see my earliest posts on this).  But there were others.  There were two books, specifically, which caught my attention, and I grabbed them.  They weren't in bad shape either.  These were:

The Romanovs: Autocrats of All the Russians, by W. Bruce Lincoln (Doubleday, 1981), in soft cover.  An amazing book in amazing shape.  This book, truly a tome, and filling out at nearly 850 pages, was in great shape.  Only a few imperfections.  It's list price on the back cover is US $17.95, which was big money back in 1981.  From the inside cover, it is listed as $7--and scripted in the handwriting and location typical of Powell's books here in Hyde Park.  That's a usual price for one of their larger, more quality books of history.  Though, this still depends on the type of book and other issues of quality.  Nonetheless, perusing the text, it looks like it will be a fine read and a good companion to my biography of Peter the Great, by Robert K. Massie (who won the biography Pulitzer for the book back in 1981).

The Jefferson Conspiracies: A President's Role in the Assassination of Meriwether Lewis, by David Leon Chandler [Winner of the Pulitzer Prize], (William Morrow and Company, 1994).  Also in pretty good shape, this book caught my eye.  It seemed truly conspiratorial, like something off the shelves of a UFO bookstore in New Mexico.  But here oh, people!  I think this is a little more bone fide than that.  In fact, it is intriguing.  I'm intrigued, right now...in the dark hours of the late evening.  I may just start reading now! 

Enough now.  Enough on Melancholy, its discontents.  Enough on the sadness of reading or in between reading.  The books were saved.  We will not have to think about soteriology for a while now, ...I hope.