For many years I’ve read fairly randomly; nearing the end of a novel I’d decide what was the logical successor and then illogically read something entirely different.

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Contributor: Ian Dawson

I favour reading fiction, with occasional biographies, usually about writers or composers.

I enjoy detective stories, but during my working life gave these up mainly for more serious fare as I had less time to read. My preference was for the country house style of story, Michael Innes being a favourite, enjoying his slightly tongue in cheek approach to the genre. Since retirement, detectives have returned to the menu.

For many years I’ve read fairly randomly; nearing the end of a novel I’d decide what was the logical successor and then illogically read something entirely different.

 I’m a sucker for an ‘ology and find I have to read them back to back as the memory goes. I’m not very good at remembering the names of characters (or people) anyway.

I’m interested in other cultures and so read a lot in translation. For about the last five years I’ve been following a ‘Daunt Books’ themed system whereby I concentrate on books from or about a specific country/region.

So far I’ve covered India, America, Spanish/Portuguese speaking countries, Scotland, France, Germany/Austria, the Middle East, England (of course) and am now on my second French period.

This has included twelve Maigrets read in two batches of six. I’m going through the Penguin set but have got less than halfway through them. I like to read novels in date of publication, wanting to see how characters develop and not wanting to miss out on references to previous books, but this is irrelevant with Simenon as he seems to jump about through time. Maigret has already retired twice up to now and I expect more retirements to come.

I love Maigret. He’s such a great character, makes me laugh, and the writing is so spare, meaning that the books are quite short.  Simenon’s other novels are also very good, although fewer are in translation, and this time I’ve also read Pedigree a semi-autobiographical novel about his early life in Liege from his birth in 1903 to Armistice Day. Significantly his younger brother, who died, and was his mother’s favourite, is not in there. Having read the book I want to go to Liege, the topography is so specific, but doubt I will. I was prompted to buy the standard Simenon biography (as yet unread) where the 500 pages of Simenon’s life in Pedigree are summarised in ten.

I don’t usually read historical novels but have read/started two novel sequences. Unfortunately I get what little historical knowledge I have from novels.

 The first is by Maurice Druon, The Accursed Kings (Les Rois Maudits) and is about the fate of a series of 13th century French Kings, damned by the Grand Master of the Templars as he died at the stake, during a purge. I first saw it as a marvellous French b&w TV series back in the 1960s in the early days of BBC2 and it’s since been done again with Depardieu as the GM (alas not available with subtitles). The latest publication has an intro by George R R Martin who describes it as the original Game of Thrones. Disturbingly fans are said to include Putin and Sarkozy! I’ve now read all seven volumes.

The second, which I’ve only just started, is by Robert Merle, The Fortunes of France and is about the Huguenots. Only four have been translated so far and there are thirteen in the sequence so I don’t think I’ll ever get to the end. Too early to make a judgement, but I will continue.

An author I was introduced to as a teenager was Marcel Aymé. He’s more than slightly surreal and his novels include The Green Mare, a tale of rural licentiousness and Beau Image, which is about a man whose face changes to a more handsome version, and the consequences. I’ve got two book series of guides to literature in translation, the Babel Guides and the Travellers Literary Companions and neither mention Aymé, which I presume  is due to the non-availability of translations at the time of their publication. Anyway he’s sufficiently well thought of in France to have a Parisian square named for him, including a fun sculpture based upon one of his stories, The Man who walked through Walls.

I’ve also read two more detectives, the first in Fred Vargas’s two sequences, The Three Evangelists and The Chalk Circle Man. Quirky and well worth further exploration. A friend tells me that a lot of her novels are written in slang. Unfortunately they’ve not been translated in sequence.  I had a minor quibble. In both books ‘tooth comb’ was used as a verb by the Scottish translator who is an academic. Possibly it is now recognised as a verb, but I doubt it as a noun. A thought – perhaps the use of a tooth comb explains the Scottish pronunciation of their Rs. Does it numb the tongue?

Most disappointing was Patrick Modiano’s Occupation Trilogy. These are three short early novels about French collaboration in WW2 Paris. A great subject but I wasn’t impressed. Perhaps later novels are better and more worthy of the Nobel prize.

Finally two sets of French short stories from Oxford World Classics and Folio, some duplicated with some very obscure authors. Most interesting was one by Balzac which refers to Sterne’s Uncle Toby. Intriguing to see how Eng Lit penetrated to France.

What next among my many unread books? The Claudine novels of Colette, a third biography of same, Dumas, Les Liaisons Dangereuses, lives of Poulenc and Ravel, a graphic novel version of Proust? I think it will be Little by Edward Carey, supposedly based upon the life of Madame Tussaud.

And where next?  Does it seem odd to think of England, possibly Dickens, after a year in lockdown? 

It is very easy to put down an electronic book and forget you have it.  A physical book sits by your chair, or by your bed and is a reminder to carry on reading.

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Contributor: Margaret Kilner

Have you read more or less during lockdown, or much the same as usual?

Well, it rather depends on what you define as “usual.”  Before I retired, about a year prior to Lockdown, most of my reading was done on the train during my commute.  I probably didn’t read much during that first summer of leisure, but when winter set in, I borrowed copious amounts of light fiction from my local library and was keen to make sure I always had a supply of new reading material.  Of course, when Lockdown started, this source was no longer available and I eventually drifted on to doing jigsaws instead.  At the beginning of the second lockdown (or was it the third?) I discovered library e-borrowing and became an avid reader again for a while.  But then, somehow, I drifted away from that; perhaps because of a decision to start re-reading some of my own books as a way of avoiding the iPad before going to bed.

Has lockdown affected your choice of reading material?

I would say not.  I tend to be a very ‘low-brow’ reader these days, preferring a light and easy-read story that will entertain me.  This is not to say I haven’t read classics in the past: I am quite partial to Dickens and have worked my way through various books by Jane Austen and the like, but I never got on with Thomas Hardy and have since decided it is because his long descriptive passages leave me cold, as I can’t picture what he is describing.  A couple of years ago, I discovered to my amazement that most people can see pictures in their mind.  I can’t and perhaps this is why poetry leaves me cold too?

Have you been using reading in a particular way – for example for comfort, raising your spirits, escapism, distraction?

I don’t think this has changed.  Reading for me is something to pick up in spare time for its entertainment value.

Have you been finding it harder to concentrate during lockdown?

I do find it harder to concentrate on one thing these days, but not sure this has anything to do with Lockdown.  I think I would tend more to blame our digital society, social media and the tendency to flip between activities too easily in the constant search for something ‘better’ and ‘more entertaining.’  I think this is partly why I have made the effort to go back to reading real books last thing at night.

Have you started books and been unable to finish them?

It is very easy to put down an electronic book and forget you have it.  A physical book sits by your chair, or by your bed and is a reminder to carry on reading.  If an e-book doesn’t immediately grip (and some books can take 100 pages before you suddenly find yourself hooked on the story) then it is too easy not to return to it.  So, not “unable” exactly, but more a kind of oversight.  Probably there are only 2 or 3 physical books that I have ever given up on because I’ve disliked them.

Where do you get inspiration for titles? 

I browse.  When I was a very young girl, my mother told me to read the first page of a book before borrowing it from the library: the idea being that this would tell you if you were going to like it.  A habit that I have carried through life and I finish most books, so who is to say she was wrong?

Where are you sourcing your books from?

My own bookshelves and the local library.  I almost never buy fiction these days (just a few selected authors) and reserve most of my purchasing for non-fiction.  These generally are more for reference and the pleasure of owning them: I don’t often sit down and read non-fiction from cover to cover.

Have you embarked on reading all the books you already own but have never read?

When I bought fiction in quantity, it always got read straight away and I don’t think I own any novels that I have never read.  Many have been read more than once.  For non-fiction, see above.

Have you been listening to audiobooks rather than reading? If so, does listening add something to your experience of the book that you wouldn’t get by reading it yourself?

I’m not really a fan of audio books.  Maybe, again, this is something to do with not being able to picture things?

Have you been reading books about pandemics? eg The Plague by Albert Camus, Journal of the Plague Year by Daniel Defoe, Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, The Roses of Eyam by Don Taylor etc?

No.

Can you recommend any books/audiobooks that you have enjoyed during lockdown?

The book that I most recently sat down and devoured was Julie Welch’s “Out on your feet,” sub-titled “The hallucinatory world of hundred mile walking.”  I enjoy a good, long walk, but 20+ miles in one go is quite enough for me.  The idea of 100 miles as a single effort was somehow morbidly fascinating to read, but not something I shall ever attempt!

Hunting the ghosts of local businesses

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Buildings often tell stories and hint at their history. For example, the barn conversion that still looks very much like a barn, the single-storey kitchen that was once an outside toilet. Some buildings have evidence that their use wasn’t hinted at – it was shouted about, to entice customers.

Hand-painted adverts were commonplace on buildings between around 1900 and 1930. Some can still be clearly seen, but still others have almost faded into obscurity, leaving a trace of products and businesses that no longer exist. That’s why they’re known as ‘ghost signs’. They appear in most UK towns and cities.

They are often unintentionally preserved, often through neglect or through over familiarity, and sometimes they are intentionally preserved. What they don’t do is tell you the full story. We don’t know who painted them, or why, or how successful they were. But what they can do is offer a hint of what the building may have functioned as, or looked like, at the turn of the 20th century.

Cambridge has several such signs – and there are certainly more to be found. It is also interesting that around 2014 there was a City Council-run project to protect these signs for posterity. I suspect it was never repeated, but certainly shows a Council seeing value in these historical signs.

Here are a few from around Cambridge:

Centaur Cycles, just off King Street. This is one of the most impressive ghost signs, and for some reason was never part of the Council’s project. It reads Centaur Cycles, the Best the World Produces. Centaur was a Coventry-based bike manufacturer, bought out by Humber around the time of World World I.

Centaur Cycles

30 Sidney Street. Between 1902 and 2010, this building was the site of Galloway and Porter booksellers. It was well-known for selling books at hugely discounted prices and carrying a Galloway and Porter carrier bag was rather fashionable amongst students in the 1990s.

Galloway & Porter

30 Green Street. From 1913, this was the site of Stoakley & Son Bookbinders. The sign has been repainted as part of the council initiative to protect ghost signs. However, this has caused some dissatisfaction on the internet, as the person who did the repainting has apparently taken some historical liberties – changing the shape of the original letters, for example.

Stoakley & Son

Wall in the courtyard of the Eagle Pub showing it was once a Coach House.

Coach House

Bulls Dairies, 44 Hills Road. This one has been restored very effectively, and is a familiar sight on Hills Road. The building was Bull’s Dairy from 1939. The milking yard was just behind it, with 30 cattle. A German bombing raid in 1941 blew the windows out, but Mr Bull survived to become the Mayor of Cambridge. 

Bulls Dairies


Hot Numbers record store at 2a Kingston Street. This building operated as a record shop from the 1970s until sometimes in the early 1990s. My partner can remember buying records from here around 1992, and said the place was always a bit of a mess. There is now a coffee shop called ‘Hot Numbers Coffee’ on a neighbouring street. 

Hot Numbers

105–107 Norfolk Street. This is now a residential home, but it was the Prince of Wales pub from 1901 to 1962.

Prince of Wales pub

67 Norfolk Street. This building was the Tailor’s Arms from 1881 to 1962, when it became a greengrocer.

Tailor’s Arms

9 Norfolk Street. Not sure what the sign says, but in 1913 it was a tobacconist. I can make out the words ‘drapers’ and ‘hosier’ too.

Draper & Hosier

The Free Press pub, built 1851. The original signs can still be seen on the walls, and it still operates as a pub (where Covid restrictions allow).

Free Press pub

 

105 Cherry Hinton Road. This building used to be a bakery and its ghost sign is probably one of my favourites. The records from 1911 show that the baker was called Wallis Francis Simpson.

Bakery

So next time you’re in a town or city, look up ou might capture a glimpse of the city’s past.

Caroline Mead was born and grew up in Cambridge, and works as a copywriter for the RSPB. Covid-permitting, she also enjoys choral singing, flute playing, bellydancing, ballet, running, walking, and discovering little-known parts of Cambridge. She has BAs from the Open University and the University of Birmingham, and an MA in Sociology from the University of York. She is also a qualified massage therapist.

A Family of Phrenologists

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Contributor: Rosalind Esche

When we think of seaside promenade attractions, such as fortune-telling, palm-reading and so forth, we tend to imagine stripey booths and bead curtains. When I worked on the Tower Project at Cambridge University Library I catalogued a series of pamphlets written and published by the Ellis family, who advertised themselves as phrenologists and publishers (but who dabbled in a great deal more than that), and had impressive premises on the promenade in Blackpool.

The Ellis family establishment

Note the heads either side of the word “Phrenologists” above the door, and the slogan “Advice On Health” on the roof, between two particularly striking hands, palms facing outwards, in front of the chimneypots. Clearly the Ellis family, Ida, Albert and Frank, were successful enough to operate from a solid building rather than a beach hut. The 1911 census records that Albert and Ida Ellis (husband and wife), Frank Ellis (brother) and Annie Edwards (domestic servant) occupied a house with 11 rooms, not counting, as instructed on the census form,  “scullery, landing, lobby, closet, bathroom, nor warehouse, office, shop.” Looking at the illustration of their promenade premises (81/82 Central Beach, Blackpool) it is likely that the consulting rooms were on the ground floor and they lived in 11 rooms above on two further floors – quite an establishment. Albert originated from Canterbury, and Ida from Suffolk, but when they first arrived in Blackpool I could not discover. Blackpool, as a popular seaside resort, offered excellent opportunities for a business such as theirs. Albert and Ida were 42 and 43 respectively at the time of this census, and had been married for 21 years.  All three Ellises give their occupation as Palmist/Phrenologist and record that they work “at home.”

Each family member specialised in their own particular skill: Frank in physiognomy, Albert in graphology and phrenology, Ida in palmistry, crystal gazing, automatic writing and psychometry.  When customers consulted the Ellis family they would receive a booklet described as a “chart,” published by the Ellises themselves, packed full of information, with blank spaces in which a personal reading would be inscribed, with appropriate advice.

Even babies could be taken to a consultation and have their own chart filled in with their potential characteristics, personality, skills and so forth.

Each chart has an index to character, so that after the initial phrenological consultation, the relevant Ellis, presumably Albert in this case, would mark in pencil numbers listed in a sort of tabular key at the front of the booklet, which the customer then relates to the characteristics correspondingly numbered in the following pages.  After that there are pages with blank spaces in which the Ellises would write customised advice (for an extra fee) on your health, occupation, relationships and so forth, even describing “persons likely to prove enemies.”  On a page headed “Summary of mental powers” the seven options provided include “You have inherited a very inferior nature, and will not think for yourself. You are low and vulgar in your habits.”

I can’t help thinking that anyone diagnosed in this category would feel pretty hard done by, parting with ready cash only to be told they were vulgar and inferior. The Ellis family obviously didn’t pull their punches; perhaps such brutal truths bestowed an air of authenticity on their readings.

The Ellises knew that they had to keep clients coming back for more. In their “Advice worth following” on p. 23 of “Stepping stones to success” they explain:

 “We would like you to consult us every year, because science is advancing so quickly that we are continually adding new features to our book. This enables our clients to obtain the latest information about themselves we can give, and also an opportunity to compare one chart with another, and thereby see what improvement has been made.”

Good idea to let your clients know that you keep up with the latest research in your field, there’s nothing so reassuring as a commitment to professional development in health practitioners.

In the lists of their books for sale at the end of their pamphlets, I noticed that the Ellises had initials  (F.B.I.M.S.) after their names, which my research tells me stood for Fellow of the British Institute of Mental Science. Apparently the British Institute of Mental Science was founded by Albert Ellis in 1891, initially to offer postal tuition, later  issuing diplomas and certificates.*

Thanks to information provided by Mark Ellis, a descendant of the Ellis family, we know that Ida ran the consulting rooms at these premises while Frank was busy running the promenade business.

The Ellises are careful to qualify their claims to scientific authenticity in “Notice to clients” at the beginning of “Palmistry chart” with an ingenious  explanation of why a client’s life may not unfold as read in their palm:

“It must be thoroughly understood that palmistry does not teach that things must absolutely occur, but that they possibly may unless steps are taken to hinder their occurrence. Thus it will be seen that if a voyage is marked on the hands, and efforts are made to hinder such an event, the mind will gradually register on the hands that the voyage was hindered, or the sign may fade away; whereas if events had taken their ordinary course the voyage would have been undertaken.”

In other words, anything could happen.

The allusion to science is a canny ploy by the Ellis family – phrenology occupied a curious position in the public imagination during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, peddled on the one hand by fairground quacks, while being the subject of genuine academic research by respected thinkers on the other.  Significant British phrenologists included the Scottish brothers George and Andrew Combe, who established the Phrenological Society of Edinburgh in 1820. This group included such well-respected luminaries as the publisher/author Robert Chambers, the astronomer John Pringle Nichol, the botanist Hewett Cottrell Watson and psychiatrist and asylum reformer William A.F. Browne (who took part in debates at the Plinian Society, of which Charles Darwin was a member). However, phrenology enjoyed a chequered career as a serious academic discipline, was rejected by the British Association for the Advancement of Science, and was eventually designated a pseudoscience.

 

We may scoff at the Ellis family’s methods, but aren’t they just cashing in on that enduring human need – to be listened to? Clients could enjoy the time and undivided attention of Albert, Ida or Frank at a consultation. What, after all, are psychiatrists and counsellors, if not people who will listen and dispense advice, for a price? And a much higher price than the Ellis family’s fees. Perhaps we should see the Ellis family as the poor man’s psychoanalysts, the working class alternative to the psychiatrist’s couch? People then, as now, were hungry for the promise of self-improvement, success, personal happiness and fulfilment.

As for Albert, Ida and Frank, the bumps on their heads would surely have denoted sharp business brains. It feels a bit like booking with a certain budget airline, reading Ellis family booklets – you’re forever coming across extra charges.

“If at any time you require a more complete guide to success, you should send this book by post to the address on the cover, and enclose ten shillings.”

“We shall be pleased to fill up any portions of this book at any time from your photo or handwriting or impressions of hands. Our fee for doing so through the post is one shilling for each part.”

 “Palmistry by post or by personal interview. If by post it is necessary for the client first to send 6d. for a bottle of Transferine, a liquid composition for the purpose of making impressions of hands. Fees according to length and detail of description.”

I can’t help wondering what the ingredients of Transferine were – Mark Ellis told us that it was invented by Frank as a removable (washable) type of ink for sending hand prints by post.

The Ellises were careful to preserve their intellectual property, too. On the first page of all their publications is the following warning:

“This chart is copyright, and legal proceedings will be taken against any person or persons who publish any portion of it without the written consent of the publishers, who have obtained an injunction and costs against a character reader who infringed the copyright of one of their charts.”

In other words, look out, any other “mental scientists” out there, and make sure you don’t impinge on the Ellis family turf.

 

*Witchcraft, magic and culture 1736-1951 by Owen Davies (published Manchester UP, 1999) – this book is held by Cambridge University Library at this shelfmark: 198.c.99.179

These pamphlets are housed in the tower of Cambridge University Library at the following shelfmarks and may be requested for consultation in the Library building:

  • Aids to self improvement. Classmark 1916.8.483
  • Guide to fame and fortune. Classmark 1916.8.572
  • Guide to health. Classmark 1916.8.484
  • Guide to success. Classmark 1916.8.509
  • Palmistry chart. Classmark 1916.8.617
  • Stepping stones to success. Classmark 1916.8.508
  • What baby is likely to become. Classmark 1916.8.621

Tony’s Trough

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Between a set of bike racks and next to Lloyd’s Bank, on a north Cambridge traffic island, there is a rather strange monument: a memorial dog trough. This was erected in 1934, in memory of a dog named Tony. It was put there at the request of Prince Chula of Siam, who studied at Trinity College. The plaque reads:

1934
In memory of Tony, a dog who gave him friendship and happiness during his Cambridge years.This trough is erected by His Royal Highness Prince Chula of Siam.

A report from the Town Planning Committee of 13 June 1933 states:

‘The Committee further considered an offer received from HRH Prince Chula of Siam of a water trough for animals to be placed near Trinity Backs or Milton Road and, in connection therewith, the Town Clerk submitted a letter from the local inspector of the RSPCA intimating that his association fully supported the erection of such a trough.

Resolved that the offer of HRH Prince Chula of Siam of a water trough for dogs be accepted with the best thanks of the council; that it be suggested that the trough should be a small one for dogs only and further that the water trough be placed at the junction of Milton Road and Chesterton Road, near the Police Box.’

Around the time the trough was constructed, Prince Chula settled in Cornwall, where he built several more similar drinking troughs to honour departed dogs.

It is either a coincidence, or a continuation of the tradition, that the Portland Arms on the other side of the road from Tony’s Trough describes itself as ‘dog-friendly’.

Caroline Mead was born and grew up in Cambridge, and works as a copywriter for the RSPB. Covid-permitting, she also enjoys choral singing, flute playing, bellydancing, ballet, running, walking, and discovering little-known parts of Cambridge. She has BAs from the Open University and the University of Birmingham, and an MA in Sociology from the University of York. She is also a qualified massage therapist.

I have steered away from pandemic themes …

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Contributor: Gordon Bunting

I read quite a lot in normal times and so I think my reading consumption has not much changed in terms of quantity, nor have I switched to non-traditional formats. I have however taken the opportunity to finish some books long started and to make very serious inroads into that pile of books still waiting to be read. Genre has not much changed, no sudden need for spiritual consolation or self-help, romantic fiction or sporting biographies. I have steered away from pandemic themes but escapism has not really featured any more than usual among my choices. I would say I have a fairly catholic taste when it comes to books both fiction and non-fiction. My reading selection starts from a number of sources: suggestions from friends, serendipity, familiar authors or interesting themes. Reviews and media references often send me in search of a book too.

Five Books:

“The Mystery of Angelina Frood” by R. Austin Freeman

 Written in the late 1920s, this book is an example of crime fiction written in a style not uncommon then but now largely extinct. Bursting with moral judgement, social class and the mores of the era, very precisely crafted and set in the Medway Towns.

“Olive Kitteridge” by Elizabeth Strout

 The book that introduced me to the exceptional talent of Elizabeth Strout. Set around the difficult personality of the protagonist in a small town in Maine.

“The City and the City” by China Miéville

 Miéville’s books can be off-putting but this one is simply a good read with a twist.

“Precious Bane” by Mary Webb

 An old Virago Modern Classic found a while back in a charity book sale and waiting to be read. Set in early 19th century rural Shropshire and a real gem.

“Oil, Power and War: A Dark History” (“Or noir”) by Matthieu Auzanneau

 A great brick of a book, designed to teach you more about the rise and subsequent development of the oil industry than you ever realised you had yet to learn. It is a tale of criminality, corruption, greed and dishonesty from start to finish, not lacking in shock value. A very well researched and presented treasure trove, it merits every minute vested in its reading.

Gordon Bunting is a retired teacher living in Paris.