Smaller Places

I am once again in awe of LMM's ability to keep me absolutely riveted by the absolutely dullest family dinner (though of course that is partly because Valancy is ready to cause some chaos and merely biding her time.)

"The greatest happiness is to sneeze when you want to."

I don't believe we've had the Stirlings' opinions on sneezing specifically yet, though I think we can hazard a guess; and perhaps it is related to all of them fretting over Valancy potentially getting a cold. Still, I'm mostly reminded of Diana Wynne Jones's Hexwood, when Mordion says that the worst part of being a brainwashed murderslave is not being able to laugh at the people who controlled him.

Where did the dog bite you? "Just a little bit below the Catholic church." "Is that a vital part?"

Valancy you are ten times funnier than Uncle Benjamin and your relatives don't deserve you.

"Oh but you know we are all dead, the whole Stirling clan. Some of us are buried, and some aren't - yet. That is the only difference"

The chapter started by relaying all the relatives going through all their usual motions, telling all their same anecdotes and jokes over and over. Like the Stirlings are all just ghosts haunting themselves.

"The very idea of a man named Snaith!" said Second Cousin Sarah. "Why, the name itself is enough to condemn him!"

I mean, she has a point. "Snaith" might be the least sexy name I've ever heard.

"People who don't like cats," said Valancy, attacking her dessert with a relish, "always seem to think that there is some peculiar virtue in not liking them."

Well, we can check "strong feelings about cats" off our bingo card, along with this gem:

"She pictured an island in Muskoka haunted by pussies."

(what are they having for dessert, anyway? Salad is salad and lamb is lamb, but what is "dessert" here?)

And what is the origin of the name "Wansbarra"? I'm assuming Anglo, but it looks odd.

Going with the concept that the Stirlings are stuck in the fading, golden pre-WWI past, I looked at Titanic menus, where "dessert" is often custards and stewed fruits. The Stirlings' version would have seen simplication over the years (plus Valancy doesn't remark on the elaborateness of dessert, nor its stodginess), so I think it's...

blancmange.

Blancmange is mild, unexceptionable, and vaguely fancy. It will not upset delicate digestions.

And what is the origin of the name "Wansbarra"? I'm assuming Anglo, but it looks odd.

Uncle Herbert gave Valancy a second look that day. Being a man, he didn’t know what she had done to her hair, but he thought surprisedly that Doss was not such a bad-looking girl, after all; and he put an extra piece of white meat on her plate.

Another instance of "to her that hath, shall be given"

Second Cousin Sarah Taylor, with her great, pale, expressionless eyes, who was noted for the variety of her pickle recipes and for nothing else. So afraid of saying something indiscreet that she never said anything worth listening to. So proper that she blushed when she saw the advertisement picture of a corset and had put a dress on her Venus de Milo statuette which made it look “real tasty.”

Little Cousin Georgiana. Not such a bad little soul. But dreary—very. Always looking as if she had just been starched and ironed. Always afraid to let herself go. The only thing she really enjoyed was a funeral. You knew where you were with a corpse. Nothing more could happen to it. But while there was life there was fear.

Valancy is not the only woman in the Stirling clan who's been living in fear! I'm struck by the description of Cousin Sarah and her statue - she doesn't have to display it if she doesn't like the nudity, but she's choosing to display it anyhow and even goes out of her way to make a tiny dress for it. What is going on in her head. I want to know.

(Also it's a bit funny that Valancy is criticizing her for being known for pickle recipes and nothing else, when Valancy herself is known for basically nothing within her clan. Valancy should get to know Cousin Sarah! I'll bet she has hidden depths too)

Uncle Wellington. Long, pallid face, thin, pale-yellow hair—“one of the fair Stirlings”

And when I looked up why that approach was abandoned, no longer considered the Way of the Future/High Tech way to build even modest homes, I found out it was because insulation technology also experienced advances during that time, meaning it also became possible to build a home that completely ignored the local climate yet offered reasonable comfort year round

And then I learned about vernacular architecture, which is the academic term for "stuff built without being designed by architects"--it's largely building practices that have been figured out by people in a region, using materials from that region, to deal with the climate of that region

What did this house have?

Concrete block walls.

Deep eaves.

Roll-down solid window screens.

Water heater outside on the south-facing wall (so it didn't need gas to keep hot for much of the year).

This house was outright cold in the winter, and it stayed cool until Monsoon Season in July -- the swamp cooler could handle 108 degrees dry, but not wet.

The items you've been squirreling away for ages, because you know they still have so much potential?

The stuff you'll never find again, because it was technically meant to be ephemera that no-one was supposed to give a second thought to before throwing it away?

The bulky packages they've been in ever since you bought them so long ago?

And, most importantly, the things that you have so much of that the storage situation is overwhelming? Hard to look at? Even harder to physically add more overlooked-by-everyone-else treasures to (which you very often do)?

This post is giving you permission to throw at least some of them away.

You can throw them all away if you want, but I know how hard that is.

Start with a little: the most broken pieces; the things already nearly used up but surely that last odd little bit will work for something, someday; 80% of each of the identical things; the parts you've tried to use for years, but it never worked out; the well-meaning gifts of generosity from people who know You Are Creative So You Will Do Something Amazing With This.

It's OK. It's not wasteful--the cumulative waste of individuals will never compare to the waste of industry. And paying attention to what you let go can help you figure out what you don't want to let back in.

And, yes, of course, giving it as a gift or having an exchange with like-minded hobby friends is an option, but make sure the recipient actually wants the stuff, and that you're not just offloading your guilt about being wasteful onto someone else.

I moved my studio out of my house for the first time ever. I left some things at home, for hobbies, and moved the rest to a space in an old mill building. The packing process was rushed. The unpacking process has been eye-opening - the things I brought that have not been touched for more than 15 years, the things I have so much of and kind of hate. The weird fabrics and strange colors and things I got for one particular project and did not make that project and also did not incorporate that material into the general stash... Let It GOOOO.

I do not need to keep all of those cardboard tubes from the centers of rolls of things just because they're really nice, heavy cardboard. I do not need to keep the pieces of packaging that are made with metallic print just because they're pretty colors. I do not need to keep the bottles of glue with about a quarter inch of possibly dried out glue in the bottom. I do not need to keep small plastic lids because they look like they should be useful for something, surely. I do not need to keep things--which were broken to begin with--that I have already cut off all the otherwise useful parts. I do not need all the cute empty food jars. I do not need to keep every cardboard package/box in odd sizes or of surprisingly nice quality. I have so much fabric that I absolutely do not need those scraps of cloth that I might be able to get one 1" square out of to use for doll-size patchwork.

The problem is that I am just so sure that they're useful! So I put them away in a box and either forget about them, or use exactly one of the many I ended up saving over time. This is giving myself--and anyone else who keeps every little disposable thing because they see its hidden potential, while never actually doing anything to achieve that potential--absolution from the guilt of throwing away things that seem so useful, but were never meant to be used like that. And maybe a bonus lesson in learning what you don't need to keep to begin with.

There will always be more trash.

Objectively, I don't love Valancy realizing how ugly everyone in her family is--but there is one very important thing I must remember. And that is that these are the people who have been telling her she was ugly for her entire life. So really what she's realizing is that they are no better than her.

"While there was life there was fear." Similar to Valancy's own meditations. We've all been saying that if not for her diagnosis, Valancy would have ended up being Cousin Stickles--but I think maybe she actually would have ended up being Cousin Georgiana. That may be why Cousin Georgiana gave her the rosebush--because she sees in Valancy a kindred spirit.

Canonically, Valancy is brunette and Olive blonde. Yet, in my mind's eye, Valancy is always blonde and Olive brunette--the same as I imagine Christine Stuart. I wonder what to make of that. Have beauty standards changed significantly enough in the last century to make that impression on my mind? Or is it a me thing?

Olive went to Havergal College, which was a fancy prep school for girls rather than a university. This is a fascinating choice for several reasons and doesn't at all remove the question of why Valancy didn't envy this.

Havergal was founded in 1894. It's unlikely Olive would have been sent to an untested new school, so she probably attended after 1898 (when the bigger facility on Jarvis Street in Toronto opened). The Blue Castle could definitely be taking place as early as the beginning of the 1910s.

There is a terrific exhibit on life at Havergal from 1894 to 1912 here. Several tidbits:

Havergal's initial board of directors was mostly "low church," not Anglican.

Of the Jarvis Street campus: "Prospective parents could be lured with the appeal of proximity to well-known families such as the Masseys, the Cawthras and the Nairns."

Havergal's curriculum was progressive for its time. Physical education was a huge deal. There were science labs. Girls were encouraged to go out and experience culture.

There were three tracks for graduation: matriculation (university prep), special ("focus on music, literature, art and languages"), and diploma.

Silence on Olive's interests implies she simply earned a diploma, and that going to Havergal was mostly about social connections. But still! Why does Valancy not envy access to music and theater?

When did Valancy's education sputter out? She grew up in a place that had relatively few year-round residents, so it's possible that schooling beyond about age 14 wasn't available without going away to a boarding school. It's also possible that she was taken out of school early for being "sickly."

I do think it's important that while Valancy has imagination and vocabulary, she's set up as resonating to the natural world, not to intellectual pursuits.

Here's my first Lego set. It was originally issued in the mid-1960s, though I was not old enough for Legos until the 1970s.