tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4905080602885676490.post8914940249433554084..comments2024-03-27T20:34:09.464+01:00Comments on zmkc: Childhood Reading - Horseszmkchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08972549292961948240noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4905080602885676490.post-80347592556869559452013-04-21T07:47:30.406+02:002013-04-21T07:47:30.406+02:00I'm embarrassed to admit that I probably felt ...I'm embarrassed to admit that I probably felt rather the same way about my father as a child - although I can't say he regarded me with the respect that Linton seems to have reserved for his daughter. However, were that not the case, I would say, 'Call Social Services immediately'.zmkchttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08972549292961948240noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4905080602885676490.post-17546504199004521772013-04-17T18:00:35.724+02:002013-04-17T18:00:35.724+02:00I never read them. I was an anthropomorphic animal...I never read them. I was an anthropomorphic animal child. <i>The Magic Pudding</i> and <i>The Muddle-Headed Wombat</i> were my books. Bill in the <i>Pudding</i> got to be an honourary animal due to his association with the koala and the penguin. <br /><br />Anyway, I've just pulled up an online version of <i>The Little Bush Maid</i> and what hit me was not racism (there's a Chinese gardener with an accent but the author makes it clear that it's wrong, not funny, to pull his hair while he's asleep) but the news that the little bush maid despises girls and her best friend is her daddy:<br /><br />"David Linton seldom made a plan that did not naturally include Norah. She was a wise little companion, too; ready enough to chatter like a magpie if her father were in the mood, but quick to note if he were not, and then quite content to be silently beside him, perhaps for hours. They understood each other perfectly. Norah never could make out the people who pitied her for having no friends of her own age. How could she possibly be bothered with children, she reflected, when she had Daddy?"Umbagollahhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14556344092820711893noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4905080602885676490.post-79932468875684898602013-04-16T07:09:20.891+02:002013-04-16T07:09:20.891+02:00I'll never, ever forget poor Ginger and her fa...I'll never, ever forget poor Ginger and her fate. Do you think anyone has ever read that bit without weeping? I wonder if all children would always benefit from association with horses. I think they would. I might run for parliament on a horses for all ticket.zmkchttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08972549292961948240noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4905080602885676490.post-68333358409556767432013-04-16T07:07:43.782+02:002013-04-16T07:07:43.782+02:00It's probably misguided but I always assume co...It's probably misguided but I always assume condescension springs from insecurity. It makes me feel better anyway, when condescended to.zmkchttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08972549292961948240noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4905080602885676490.post-3595985498351101512013-04-16T01:56:51.342+02:002013-04-16T01:56:51.342+02:00Many years ago I saw a coffee table book called Al...Many years ago I saw a coffee table book called <i>All Those Girls in Love with Horses</i>. I did not know many of them in my childhood, but have encountered one or two since.<br /><br />Isn't it a truism among linguists that there are "we" names and "they" names, and that "they" names commonly either originate as or come to mean "the enemy"? The British have had a pretty good run at condescension, but the idea was known and practiced long before English was spoken.Georgehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14819154529261482038noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4905080602885676490.post-15320325396061235322013-04-15T15:51:49.724+02:002013-04-15T15:51:49.724+02:00My mother found me one evening just before sleep t...My mother found me one evening just before sleep time with <i>Black Beauty</i> in my hands, tears streaming down my face. I had just read the part on the miserable death of Ginger, the cab-horse, and was much distressed by it. To me Ginger could have been Rusty, Juno, or my own pony Topsy, and the thought of it all was unbearable to me.<br /><br />Fortunately, having been comforted somewhat and tucked in, and a good night's sleep, and seeing all the horses out in the paddock grazing at dawn, the memory eased, but I never forgot the painful image of Ginger painted all too well by Anna Sewell.Denis Wrighthttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786035137418348609noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4905080602885676490.post-51611527414729407652013-04-15T12:13:29.163+02:002013-04-15T12:13:29.163+02:00I don't know if you were ever exposed to the w...I don't know if you were ever exposed to the works of Mary Grant-Bruce, but I was brought up on them - and I still have the full collection. I'm gearing up to go through them all again. I suspect all sorts of unthinking snobbery and racism will hit me straight between the eyes now, whereas in the happy days of innocence I wouldn't have even flinched for an instant. Life was easier once.zmkchttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08972549292961948240noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4905080602885676490.post-36105315168620589272013-04-14T07:26:42.403+02:002013-04-14T07:26:42.403+02:00" ... the author of Phari has apparently neve..." ... the author of Phari has apparently never contemplated the idea that any race but the British should ever be taken seriously."<br /><br />I came across the same phenomenon last year, I think, or the year before, when I read W.H. Hudson's <i>Green Mansions</i>, and the hero-narrator began to look down on the villagers as a sort of casual matter of course, <i>after</i> they had saved him from starving to death in the terrifying South American jungle. Gratitude, I thought. Classy.Umbagollahhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14556344092820711893noreply@blogger.com