One of the most enjoyable things about writing historical fiction is falling down the research rabbit hole.
Yes, I know authors of contemporary fiction have to do research also. Not disrespecting other writers. Just saying that historical research is, in my view, lots more interesting.
I especially like to read memoirs, and collections of letters. I have a couple of print books in my memoir collection, and more that I picked up from Google Books and Project Gutenberg. Though social norms and societal expectations might have changed, people’s wants and desires haven’t changed that much.
Another print book recently came into my collection, from my sister who was shuffling her collection of books for a cross-country move. It’s our grandmother’s geography text from her school days:
I’m up there in years, and as I was the second youngest of all the many grandchildren, this book is also old. In fact, it’s from the century before last. It was copyrighted in 1897, and that’s the year Grandma received it, inscribing it with her name and “her Book, Dec. 26, 1897.”
What I love is that, like a kid from my generation, the grandma who I knew as a very old, very proper octogenarian doodled and scribbled on the interior and exterior covers. In one place there are her initials in a pin-point design; in another, a penciled flower drawing; and a math problem when she maybe ran out of scrap paper.
Remember me early
Remember me late,
Remember me at
The Golden Gate
And this one:
Dear friend,
Love me little
Love me long
Love me when
I’m dead and gone
And:
These few lines are tendered
By a friend sincere and true
Hoping but to be remembered
By an honest friend like you
And this last:
Dear Sister
When on this page
you chance to look
remember it was
your sister that
wrote this in your book.
That one is rather poignant, because grandma’s sister died the following year.
Grandma was seventeen when she acquired this book, and she went on to become a country schoolteacher before marrying, having six children, and carrying out her share of the responsibilities of running the family farm–gardening, canning, cooking, cleaning, clothing everyone, etc. Her only water was pumped from a cistern, and she cooked on a wood stove. It makes me tired thinking about it!
Do you have any old treasures like this in your personal collection? Share in the comments, please!
Have a wonderful autumn, and I’ll see you at my next Quarter Days post.
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She's a headstrong Bostonian. He’s a laid-back Tennessean.
More info →When Petra Baron goes into the fortuneteller’s tent at a Renaissance fair, she expects to leave with a date to the prom.
More info →A Slice of Orange is an affiliate with some of the booksellers listed on this website, including Barnes & Nobel, Books A Million, iBooks, Kobo, and Smashwords. This means A Slice of Orange may earn a small advertising fee from sales made through the links used on this website. There are reminders of these affiliate links on the pages for individual books.
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