Tag Archives: 1925

cropped photo from The Children of Dickens, 1925, Tiny Tim with crutch

Children’s Books: Your 1925 Holiday Guide

1925 is the best children’s book year ever!

Or a total washout!

New York Times headline, New Books for Children Herald The Holiday Season
New York Times, November 8, 1925

It depends on whether you believe the New York Times, whose anonymous critic tells us in its November 8 holiday children’s book roundup that “never since man began to make books, have there been so many and such beautiful books for young readers,” or The Outlook, where Edmund Pearson, writing in the November 11 issue, agrees about the abundance of beautiful books but adds, “but—and this is a perennial but—the number of juvenile books of merit is exceedingly small.”*

Headline, Outlook: The Book Table, Edited by Edmund Pearson
The Outlook, November 11, 1925

I had no choice, then but, to go through the books and make up my own mind, which I did with such excessive thoroughness that I’ve blasted right past Christmas. This might have stressed me out more, with seven on-time holiday children’s book roundups under my belt,** if I hadn’t heard the wise counsel, on the holiday episode of Caroline O’Donaghue’s*** podcast Sentimental Garbage, that we should stop stressing out about traditions and instead think of them as “things we like to do sometimes.” So, sometimes I like to post my children’s books holiday roundup in time for Christmas.

For the Youngest Readers

Jessie Willcox Smith, A Child’s Garden of Verses

There are always a lot of reissued classics by noted illustrators, and 1925 was no exception. The year’s crop includes A Child’s Garden of Verses, Robert Louis Stevenson’s 1885 collection, with illustrations by Jessie Willcox Smith. Smith’s black-and-white illustrations aren’t particularly memorable, and some of the poems

hold up better today than others,

but Smith’s color plates do Stevenson’s poems justice.

Henriette Willebeek LeMair, A Gallery of Children

A.A. Milne, who had a huge success with When We Were Very Young in 1924, is all over the place in 1925. A Gallery of Children is a collection of stories with illustrations by Henriette Willebeek LeMair. Pioneering children’s library Annie Carroll Moore**** tells us in an October roundup in The Bookman that Milne wrote the stories to go with the pictures rather than the other way around, and it shows. The pictures are, indeed wonderful, but the stories are a mixed bag.

Cover illustration by E.H. Shepard

So if you’re going to go with Milne this season you might want to opt for When We Were Very Young, which is out in a new holiday edition, larger in size, and as Marcia Dalphin is all excited to tell us in a December holiday children’s book roundup in The Bookman, with a picture of Christopher Robin as a frontispiece. I couldn’t find the original edition, so I don’t know if the frontispiece wasn’t there in that one or if Dalphin just wasn’t paying attention back in 1924. So that we can all share in the excitement, here it is.

E.H. Shepard, When We Were Very Young

For Middle-Grade Readers

Photograph of David Binney Putnam, David Goes Voyaging

David Goes Voyaging, written by twelve-year-old David Binney Putnam, is the story of his experience as a cabin boy on the Arcturus expedition, a six-month-long journey to the Sargasso Sea and the Galapagos islands led by naturalist William Beebe. David’s age led me to suspect that he was yet another fake child author, but a look at the text convinced me that it was written by an actual twelve-year-old: “The writing took quite a long time, and I think being a naturalist would be more fun than being a writer. Anyway, my stories help me remember the fun we had on the Arcturus. I don’t see how it could have been much better.” David’s father was the promoter George Palmer Putnam, who married Amelia Earhardt in 1931, and David would go on to have a number of other adventures dreamed up by his publicity-hungry father.

Hugh Lofting, Dr. Dolittle’s Zoo

At the beginning of Dr. Dolittle’s Zoo, written and illustrated by Hugh Lofting, Dr. D’s parrot Polynesia bemoans the addition of yet another installment to the series, the fifth since the publication of Dr. Dolittle in 1920. This one, about a cageless zoo where the animals can leave whenever they want, seems to be one of the more innocuous installments in the sometimes horribly racist series.

Gertrude A. Kay, Adventures in Our Street

Adventures in Our Street, written and illustrated by by Gertrude A. Kay starts promisingly with these endpapers,

but the characters are all referred to by names like Two-Braids and the Door Slammer, which I took as a bad sign at first. The book turns out to be witty, though, as well as being beautifully illustrated. I even warmed up to some of the children’s epithets, especially The-Children-Who-Broke-All-Their-Toys-on-Christmas.

In Dorothy Canfield Fisher’s Made-to-Order Stories, it’s the author’s 10-year-old son Jimmy who’s giving the orders. He draws the line at fairies “because they’re foolish,” hates things that couldn’t possibly have happened, and despises stories that try to teach you something without your knowing it. Jimmy shows up at the beginning of each story, giving instructions, and again at the end, quibbling about plot holes. Jimmy went on to be an army surgeon in World War II and, sadly, died in the Philippines in 1945.

Illustration by A.H. Watson from “The Princess Who Could Not Laugh,” Number Three Joy Street

The Joy Street anthology series is coming off a rough year: Anticipating the third volume, Annie Carroll Moore says in her Bookman roundup that Number Two was “so disappointing to children that we reluctantly withhold our recommendation until we have sampled its contents with children under ten years old.” I checked out one story in Number Three Joy Street, “The Princess Who Could Not Laugh” by, you guessed it, A.A. Milne. What finally made the princess laugh was someone slipping on a plate of butter. Not being a fan of slapstick, I’m withholding my recommendation too.

Jessie Willcox Smith

Reading The Children of Dickens by Samuel McChord Crothers is like being stuck next to someone at a dinner party who insists on recounting the plots of one Dickens novel after another. Jessie Willcox Smith contributes charming illustrations, though.

Else Hassleriis, Shen of the Sea

Shen of the Sea by Arthur Bowie Chrisman is the year’s Newbery Medal winner, but I had a hard time getting into it. People say “honorable” a lot. The author of a post on the book on the blog Orange Swan, who had more perseverance than I did, called both Chrisman’s stories and Else Hassleriis’s illustrations “faux Chinese” and noted that Chrisman had never visited China.

Ling Jui Tang, “The Rabbit Lantern”

The Rabbit Lantern, a collection of stories about Chinese children, didn’t appear in any reviews, let alone win a Newbery—I spotted it in an ad alongside the roundup in The Outlook. Author Margaret Rowe and illustrator Ling Jui Tang have way better China credentials than Chrisman, though. Rowe grew up in China, the daughter of missionaries, and Ling Jui Tang, according to the ad, was Chinese. I’m not qualified to judge the tales’ authenticity, but the book’s a lot livelier than Shen of the Sea.*****

Maxfield Parish, The Knave of Hearts

“Worth all it costs,” the Independent’s D.R. tells us of Louise Saunders’ The Knave of Hearts, with illustrations by Maxfield Parrish. Someone tore out the part of the page where the price was listed, though, so I don’t know how much that is. The illustrations by Parrish make up for the text, which is in the form of a long, tedious play.

Boris Artzybasheff, The Forge in the Forest

Marcia Dalphin tells us in The Bookman that The Forge in the Forest by Padraic Colum is “a book with a fine stirring atmosphere in it, and the stroke of iron and iron.” Alice M. Jordan tells us in the Independent that Boris Artzybasheff’s illustrations have “a half-barbaric quality.” My brain can’t absorb another folk tale at this point, so I’ll take their word for it.

For Older Readers

Dalphin comments that, for older children, “stories of distinction are hard to come by”—a problem I’ve observed year after year in this age group. There are a number of re-illustrated classics on offer, including James Fenimore Cooper’s The Deerslayer, with illustrations by N.C. Wyeth,

N.C. Wyeth, The Deerslayer

an abridged edition of Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables, with illustrations by Mead Schaeffer,

Mead Schaeffer, Les Miserables

and Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, with illustrations by Arthur Rackham.

Arthur Rackham, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

The Flying Carpet, an anthology of poems and stories by noted writers, has been getting a lot of buzz. Contributors include Thomas Hardy, with just a short poem at the beginning, and, again, A.A. Milne, with a poem that will appear in his 1927 collection Now We Are Six.

Illustration from “Neil and Tintinnabulum,” The Flying Carpet

The highlight for me, though, is a story by Peter Pan author James M. Barrie called “Neil and Tintinnabulum,” about a seven-year-old boy who’s sent off to boarding school. Barrie tells it in a meta way, saying at one point of a plot twist, “The situation is probably unparalleled in fiction.”

Edith Ballinger, Rain on the Roof

Every year I check out the latest Cornelia Meigs book, and every year I regret it. Rain on the Roof starts out with, yes, rain, and then the sun comes out, and then there’s a swallow, and…I’m done. The endpapers are cool, though.

Frank M. Rines, Friends and Rivals

Alice M. Jordan, writing in the Independent, has this generic praise for Friends and Rivals by Arthur Stanwood Pier: “A real story with real characters.” After initially thinking, “Wait, isn’t that the gay hockey show?” (no, that’s Heated Rivalry), I checked it out and found myself getting into the story, about a sickly young man with a coddling mother who goes to boarding school and presumably—I didn’t get that far—joins the football team.

Chelsea Fraser, The Practical Book of Home Repairs

For the mechanically minded, there’s The Practical Book of Home Repairs by Chelsea Fraser, which Edmund Pearson, writing in The Outlook, calls “a severely practical volume” for boys and men. If the young person in your life is into soldering and repairing the water supply, this is just the thing.

Cover illustration by Francis Cugat

If not, how about giving your young friend a book full of love and parties and heartbreak and jazz and flowing white dresses? It got so-so reviews, but trust me on this one.

For All Ages

World Map of Adventures for Boys and Girls

If you can’t choose just one book, this Map of Adventures for Boys and Girls features 150 fictional and real-life adventures from children’s books throughout the ages. It is, Library Journal tells us, available free of charge from the Syracuse Public Library. Many of the adventures don’t hold up to contemporary sensibilities, but as an illustrated guide to the history of children’s reading it’s a marvel.

The Verdict

I have to say that I agree with Pearson that the number of children’s books of genuine merit published in 1925 is small. It’s an era of brilliant illustrators, and of advances in printing technology that allow for numerous color pages in vivid hues. With a few exceptions, though, it’s not an age of brilliant children’s writers. There aren’t any new books on this list that children are still reading today. But that’s not unusual—most years don’t give us a children’s book that will stand the test of time.

Some years do, of course—stay tuned for 1926!

*Pearson, a librarian and true-crime writer best known for a book about the Lizzie Borden case, does not seem to have been in a particularly good mood when he wrote the Outlook column. It ends with this writeup of The Fat of the Cat, and Other Stories by Gottfried Keller, translated by Louis Untermeyer: “My informant told me that it was one of the very best books of the season. I pass this information on for those who like to read about cats. I don’t. In my opinion, there are only two good cats in literature; one of them is in ‘Huckleberry Finn’ and the other is in ‘Penrod:’ one is dead and one is down a well.”

**Granted, sometimes it was down to the wire—last year’s roundup appeared on Christmas night.

***O’Donaghue is also the author of The Rachel Incident, one of my favorites of the books I read this year—high praise since this was one of my best reading years ever.

****Annie Carroll Moore, whose first name was actually Annie, officially changed it to Anne in her fifties to avoid confusion with another woman named Annie Moore who, what are the odds, was also writing about children’s libraries. Personally, I think she should have gotten dibs on Annie, having basically invented the profession of children’s librarian. In any case, she’ll always be Annie to me.

*****Rowe later ended up in a tragic love triangle involving her husband, who was a curator of Asian art, and a visiting linguist who, according to an account of the affair in the New York Times, was beguiled by the “Orientalism” of the Marches’ Detroit home.

One last summer swim in 1925

August in Washington, D.C., wound down in a very un-D.C. fashion, with moderate temperatures and low humidity, a far cry from the weather in late July when I went to the DC Open finals.* The women’s final, played in the afternoon after a long rain delay, felt like a battle to see which player could draw more of the humid air into her lungs. (Conditions were better for the men, who played at sunset after another long rain delay.)

DC Open winner Leylah Fernandez and finalist Anna Kalinskaya

I started my Labor Day weekend early by joining two friends for a swim at the Hearst Pool near the National Cathedral. This was my first visit to this pool, which opened in 2021, and only my second swim of the summer. As I swam leisurely laps and lazed on a lounge chair chatting with my friends, I regretted that I hadn’t spent more time at the pool.

I decided to cut myself some slack, though, given that my summer started out as a Cape Town winter and along the way featured COVID in Dublin, a week visiting family in Colorado, and Hurricane Erin, which didn’t come as far north as DC but brought cloudy skies and cool weather. I’d celebrate the last days of summer, I decided, by taking a look at swimmers on the magazine covers of 1925.

The New Yorker, in its first summer, went all-in on celebrating the joys of the surf.

H.O. Hofman, June 20, 1925
New Yorker cover, June 27, 1925, Julian de Miskey, family swimming
Julian de Minskey, June 27, 1925
New Yorker cover, August 15, 1925, three people swimming.
H.O. Hofman, August 15, 1925

Judge was on board too.

Judge magazine cover, June 20, 1925, woman in bathing suit holding striped towel.
Ruth Eastman
Judge magazine cover, August 1, 1925, woman on buoy with man
Guy Hoff, August 1, 1925

Vanity Fair was not to be outdone by Judge in the red wrap department.

Vanity Fair, July 1925, Miguel Covarrubias, woman in red cape at beach.
Miguel Covarrubias, July 1925

Kids joined in the fun at the Saturday Evening Post.

Saturday Evening Post cover, boy jumping into water, Elberg McGran Jackson, July 24, 1925.
Elberg McGran Jackson, July 24, 1925
Saturday Evening Post cover, Charles McLellan, August 1, 1925, woman with boat with boy in background.
Charles McLellan, August 1, 1925

It struck me that, while the men and boys are still covered up on top, the women’s suits aren’t all that different from what you’d see at the beach or the pool these days. When I was growing up, all girls’ and women’s suits had higher-cut legs (if you wanted to be modest, you had to get one with a little skirt, which was kind of pointless because it would float up when you got into the water), but now you see all different kinds of suits, including ones like these.

Women had to fight for the type of suits that you see on the 1925 covers. Twenty years before, bathing suits looked like this:

Martin Justice, July 1905
Lafayette Maynard Dixon, August 1905

Stockings were on their way out by the mid-1910s,

Vanity Fair cover, November 1915, Anne Harriet Fish, two women at beach holding parasol, "Ready for Palm Beach Issue."
Anne Harriet Fish, November 1915
Puck cover, Harry Morse Meyers, July 18, 1915, woman in bathing suit on board being towed by boat.
Harry Morse Meyers, July 18, 2015

but bare-legged swimming was still barred in some places. The outcry following the arrest of Olympic gold medalist Ethelda Bleibtrey for swimming “nude” (i.e. without stockings) at Manhattan Beach in Los Angeles in 1919 helped put an end to the leg-baring bans.

Ethelda Bleibtrey at Olympic games, Antwerp, 1920.
Ethelda Bleibtrey at Olympic Games, Antwerp, 1920.

By 1925, Life was poking fun at the similarity between men’s and women’s suits. (They would diverge again when men started bathing topless in the 1930s.)

Garrett Price, August 27, 1925

With Labor Day behind us and pools closed, swimming is a wistful memory.

Emile Aubry, September 1925

As this woman reminds us, though, you don’t have to go in the water to enjoy the warm weather while it lasts.

*The tournament is officially called the [Corporate Sponsor 1] [Corporate Sponsor 2] DC Open, but I don’t have either the mental energy to remember all that or the desire to advertise these companies every time I mention it.

**I really, really want her dress.

The Top Posts of 1924

Belated happy New Year, everyone, and welcome to the (can it be?) eighth year of My Life 100 Years Ago.*

J.C. Leyendecker, January 3, 1925

This year’s J.C. Leyendecker New Year’s baby apparently just registered his new car and immediately has to repair it, which I gather is par for the course for ca. 1925 vehicles.

John Held Jr., January 5, 1925

Cars can be fun, though, as you can see from the most Roaring Twenties magazine cover ever. You can cavort and smoke and…well, let’s just say don’t base your driving behavior on hundred-year-old magazine covers.

Cars were also celebrated on the covers of Vogue**

Georges Lepape, January 1, 1925

and Life (“We got one now,” the family exults in the caption),

F.G. Cooper, January 8, 1925

while, over at Motor, ironically, cars are a mere afterthought.

Coles Phillips, January 1925

On to the top posts of 1924!

Which is not a very competitive category because my productivity this year was less than stellar, with a mere three posts. Here they are:

3. Children’s Books: Your 1924 Holiday Shopping Guide

Highlights of 1924 include When We Were Very Young, A.A. Milne’s first collection of Christopher Robin poems; a fun book of poems about a day in the life of two Parisian kids; and, for older kids, two Agatha Christies and The Cross Word Puzzle Book, the first-ever crossword collection, which, infuriatingly, I can’t download from South Africa.

2. The Top Posts of 1923

Last year’s roundup.

1. A Double Rainbow of 1924 Magazine Covers

Longing for sun in rainy, wintery Cape Town, I took refuge in a rainbow of summer 1924 magazine covers. (Now, in sunny, summery Cape Town, I’m wistfully scrolling Facebook for my DC friends’ photos of the recent snowstorm.)

In spite of my slack production, this blog had by far its most views ever in 2024, proving, depending on your world view, either that 1) sticking to something, however intermittently, pays off, or 2) life is unfair.*** The most popular posts this year overall were from past years. (The #1 new post was only #15 overall.) To make this a real Top 10, here are seven of them.

7. Young Dorothy Parker at Vanity Fair

Young Dorothy Parker, date unknown

Parker’s “Any Porch,” her first published poem, is one of my favorite a hundred years ago things ever. It’s been a while—I’ll have to catch up with her in 1925.

6. Are you a superior adult? Take this 1918 intelligence test and find out!

This vocabulary-based IQ test is totally legit because asking people if they know what a parterre and a cameo are is not socially biased AT ALL.

5. Three 1920 Women Illustrators I’m Thankful For

Jessie Willcox Smith cover, Good Housekeeping, November 2020, two children praying over soup.

For this Thanksgiving post, I was going to write about ten women I was thankful for, but Neysa McMein (who was Dorothy Parker’s best friend) ended up being so fascinating that I never would have gotten dinner on the table if I hadn’t cut back.

4. Can you beat me at this 1919 intelligence test? Probably!

I did not distinguish myself on the IQ tests here, to put it mildly, but luckily I found a 1919 article reassuring me that they’re a bunch of hogwash.

3. Langston Hughes, Teenaged Poet

Langston Hughes wrote one of his greatest poems, “The Negro Speaks of Rivers,” as a teenager—and also wrote about fairies and Mexican children’s games.

2. My Quest to Earn a 1919 Girl Scout Badge

This is part one in my two-part quest to earn a Girl Scout badge from 100 years ago. Sadly, Part 2, where I actually succeeded in earning a couple, is less popular.

1. Claude McKay’s Harlem Shadows, “If We Must Die,” and Congressional Confusion

    In last year’s most popular new post, I wrote about McKay’s poem “If We Must Die” and the confusion over whether it was entered into the Congressional Record, and if so, by whom.

    It took a while for the twenties to start roaring, but halfway through the decade flappers are everywhere, Art Deco has come into its own, and the Jazz Age is well underway. I’m looking forward to what 1925 will bring.

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    *If you want to get technical, for the first two years it was My Life in 1918.

    **The first few websites I saw attributed this cover to Sonia Delaunay, which surprised me since as far as I knew she was an artist, not an illustrator. The cover’s definitely by Lepape—you can see his signature in the top left hand corner—but according to this website it’s a portrayal of Delaunay’s “simultaneous” technique.

    ***Or, I guess, 3) search engine algorithms are weird.

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    New on Rereading Our Childhood, the podcast I cohost:

    Rereading Little Town on the Prairie, with Judith Kalb

    Our Favorite Children’s Books of 60 Years Ago