From-the-Editors-Desk

For Sale: A Book
June 6, 2010

About four years ago, a long-ago friend gave me a copy of The English Governess at the Siamese Court that that been in her library for several decades. The is the book that the popular movie and stage productions of The King and I were based on.

The book itself is the memoir of Anna Leonowens, an English governess who in 1862 came to the court of Siam. She was born in India, the daughter of British Sergeant Thomas Edwards and his Anglo-Indian wife, Mary Anne Glasscott. Her father died before she was born, and her relationship with her step-father was not good. In 1847, the family went to Aden where she was taught by the Reverend George Percy Badger and his wife Maria, a missionary schoolmistress, who eventually took her with them on a tour of Egypt and Palestine.

At the end of 1849, she returned to India where she wed Thomas Leonowens. Shortly thereafter they sailed to Singapore; it was during the trip she gave birth to a son, the first of four children, only two of whom survived to adulthood. Her husband died in 1851, and to support herself and her children she opened a school for British officers’ children in Singapore.

It was as a result of her reputation as an educator that she came to be offered a position to teach the wives, concubines, and children of Mongkut, King of Siam. Leonowens sent her daughter to school in England and took her son with her to Bangkok. There she remained for nearly six years, serving first as a teacher and later as a language secretary to the king. But she did not find the conditions of her employment satisfactory and in 1867 returned to England. While on leave and attempting to negotiate better terms the king fell ill and died. The new monarch, though appreciative of her services, did not invite her to return.

The English Governess at the Siamese Court came about when she began to write travel articles for the Atlantic Monthly and other publications in 1869. It was the first of her two memoirs of her years in Siam. It brought her fame, but it also brought her allegations of sensationalism. Exaggeration of her role was another one of the charges leveled against her.

But the book was reviewed widely. One, published in Overland Monthly and Out West magazine (March 1871) complained that “private life of the most sacred personages is turned inside out, and bookwrights and newspaper correspondents penetrate everywhere,” exposing “astonished inmates, blinking and cowering in their nakedness among the gaudy shams of their languid existence.” But though you can imagine the reviewer wrinkling his nose in distaste it is also easy to see that he (for it is surely a man) was as eager to dive into the book as everyone else before making his final condemnatory statement of the book's subject.

Mrs. Leonowens, in her fresh, lively way, tells us of all she saw. And the sight is not satisfactory. Human nature in a pagan palace, burdened though it may be with a royal ceremonial and covered with jewels and silk attire, is a few shades weaker than elsewhere. The swelling domes, crusted with barbaric pearl and gold, worshiped at a distance by the awe-struck subjects of the mighty ruler, cover as much lying, hypocrisy, vice and tyranny as may have been found in the palaces of Le Grande Monarque in the days of the Montespans, the Maintenons, and the Cardinals Mazarin and De Retz. Poor humanity does not vary much, after all, whether we find it in a hovel or castle; and it is edifying to have the truism so often and abundantly fortified by evidence from the four corners of the globe.

The English governess at the Court of Siam had marvelous opportunities for seeing the whole domestic and interior life of royalty in Siam. An instructor of the King's children, she came to be on familiar terms with the august tyrant who holds the lives of a great nation in his hand. A woman, she was permitted to penetrate into the secret recesses of the harem, and could tell all that was fit to tell of the life of the multitudinous wives of the oriental despot. So we have all the minutia of the Siamese Court, not tediously drawn out, but graphically sketched by an observant woman, and charming from its novelty, if nothing more. There is, too, a touch of sadness in all she says of the poor women who languish out their lives in this splendid misery. The poor child-wife of the King, who sang a scrap of "There is a Happy Land, far, far away;" the concubine, beaten on the mouth with a slipper -- these, and all others like them, are the sombre shadows of the interior life of the royal abode. We close the book, heartily glad that we are not subjects of his Golden-Footed Majesty of Siam.

I haven’t read the book nor do I have any interest in reading it. The reason I have hung onto it all this time is because it is a first edition in very good condition. And it’s worth some money, selling for between $750 and $1600 on AddALL.

If I sound cold-hearted about it, I am. I feel like a bookseller; this book, beautiful as it is, is just merchandise to be sold for the highest price I can get. It’s a bit of an odd feeling because I tend to develop relationships with most of the books on my shelves. Even if unread (as yet), they are books that I have chosen, or that have come to me from Dad or Mom or close friends or have come in as review copies that I wanted to keep. Some have inscriptions so I know who gave them to me and when. Others have signatures obtained when I have met the authors. And quite a few have the “post-reading reviews” on the front free end paper that I like to write when I finish a book. All these things indicate my personal relationship with the books.

But this book is different. It was not given in the spirit of friendship, but more in the nature of a “would you get rid of it” gesture. She had taken good care of it but didn’t care for it, and could not be bothered to do anything other than hand it off to me. I kept it carefully shelved—it is a beautiful book, published in 1870 and with lovely illustrations—but I never developed a relationship with it either. Which is the reason that I contacted six antiquarian book dealers this past week about selling it. Three have expressed interest in seeing it. And this poor book, so long unloved and really unwanted, may at last be on its final steps to finding a new, and loving, home.

Upcoming Book Festivals:
The popular Printers Row Book Fair will take place next weekend, June 12-13 in Chicago. This is one of the nation’s premier book festivals, and if you are anywhere near Chicago make a point of joining the 125,000 other people who do. It would be impossible to list here the huge array of authors and discussions that will be offered over the two days of the festival, but it is sure to be spectacular. And for the first time, the festival will have special evening events. Children’s events include storytelling, costumed characters, performances, sing-alongs, and other special activities coordinated by various educational and cultural groups. All panel discussions are on a first come/first serve basis except for those at the Harold Washington Library Center, which require advance registration.

The Pub House:
Big Mouth House, an imprint of Small Beer Press, is new and small. It issued its first book in 2008—Joan Aiken’s The Serial Garden: The Complete Armitage Family Stories—and expects to publish “one or two weird and great titles (short story collections and novels)” for those aged ten and up each year. Their newest book is The Poison Eaters and Other Stories the first story collection by Holly Black, who continues her famous Tithe series with this tour of a faerie market, introducing a girl poisonous to the touch and another who challenges the devil to a competitive eating match. For young adult readers who enjoy fantasy these books are worth checking out.

Imaging Books & Reading:
Want to see up uplifting, fun video on reading? Try . It is a wonderful collage of books that emphasizes the rock song of the title. Absolutely delightful!

Of Interest:
If e-readers ever overtake printed books then there would be no need for blogs like Bookshelf Porn to exist. Fortunately, I think that’s unlikely to happen simply because most of us who are readers adore the sight of bookshelves. Elegant or simple, packed or half-empty, short or tall, old or new, with glass fronts or without. It matters not because there is something about books on shelves that appeals to our readers’ souls. And this blog, which is really nothing but photographs of shelves of all kinds, is perfect for the bibliophile voyeur.

Until next week, read well, read often and read on!

Lauren

 


 

 
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