This woman had the good luck of being advanced to the throne of England, inspite of the superior pretensions, Merit, & Beauty of her Cousins Mary Queen of Scotland & Jane Grey. Nor can I pity the Kingdom for the misfortunes they experienced during her Reign, since they fully deserved them, for having allowed her to succeed her Brother - which was a double peice of folly, since they might have foreseen that as she died without Children, she would be succeeded by that disgrace to humanity, that pest of society, Elizabeth. Many were the people who fell Martyrs to the protestant Religion during her reign; I suppose not fewer than a dozen. She married Philip King of Spain who in her Sister’s reign was famous for building Armadas. She died without issue, & then the dreadful moment came in which the destroyer of all comfort, the deceitful Betrayer of trust reposed in her, & the Murderess of her Cousin succeeded to the Throne.
The History of England (1791), by a then-15 year old Jane Austen. It was written as a parody of books such as Oliver Goldsmith's The History of England from the Earliest Times to the Death of George II (1771). The portraits were illustrated by her sister Cassandra.
Emily’s parents were cleaning out some kind of storage area and found an almost mint copy of a “zine” that some friends and I made in high school, which Emily was nice enough to return to me. (For some reason she herself does not seem to have been involved in the production, which must be a relief for her.)
Unlike the highly personal/confessional/politically aware zines that everyone else was making in the 90’s, our zine– entitled Taste and Si, because ???– is entirely pointless and dashed off. Even at the time I don’t think we thought it was particularly clever or interesting, but it was something to do. In my opinion the main thing it has going for it fifteen years later is what Carrie Bradshaw would call a certain za za zu in terms of the design. (A lot more effort seems to have been put into laying out the pages than into actually writing the text.)
Features included are:
A comedic essay about Comedy, titled Comedy.
Who Likes Bacon, a short and not very enlightened style column offering fashion tips for Carnie Wilson.
Many pages of pure filler.
Do You Have an Eating Disorder, an irreverent quiz about eating disorders. (This one was of course my handiwork.)
Something called Tips From Nazareth/A Reading From Paul which is almost impossible to describe but seems to be written from the perspective of a crazy person who is still upset about Jesus’s crucifixion. Also features a lot of non-sequitur scatological humor.
An aggressively pointless essay expressing admiration for Ricki Lake written by me in my signature banal but zippy style.
A “survey” meant to be returned “up your butt and around the corner.”
A double page activity spread in which the reader is asked to draw hairdos on pictures of people cut out from the yearbook.
A Story About a Dwarf, which seems to have been written by my youngest sister who would have been seven or eight. It has nothing to do with dwarves.
Fuck You in giant bubble letters
The Sassies, an illustrated (by me!) lesbian melodrama set in my precalculus class. It makes no sense but has an appealing visual style.
Too Much Babies- pictured. Based on the obsession with pregnancy and illegal baby trade, I’m pretty sure this must be the work of my friend Katie.
A somewhat racist but also comedically nonsensical guide to dressing in “Arab” costume. (I was sort of shocked by this but at least it’s not in my handwriting.)
Dear Dullard, an advice column “written” by a very dull person. (Actually written and illustrated by me.)
Some purposely bad poetry
Bible Mad Libs
Freak World. Also possibly by my little sister? Subhed: “How do you know when your standing there talking to a freak.”
Each night, this adroit young lady Lies among sheets Shredded fine as snowflakes Until dream takes her body From bed to strict tryouts In tightrope acrobatics.
Nightly she balances Cat-clever on perilous wire In a gigantic hall, Footing her delicate dances To whipcrack and roar Which speak her maestro's will.
Gilded, coming correct Across that sultry air, She steps, halts, hung In dead center of her act As great weights drop all about her And commence to swing.
Lessoned thus, the girl Parries the lunge and menace Of every pendulum; By deft duck and twirl She draws applause; bright harness Bites keen into each brave limb Then, this tough stint done, she curtsies And serenely plummets down To traverse glass floor And get safe home; but, turning with trained eyes, Tiger-tamer and grinning clown Squat, bowling black balls at her. Tall trucks roll in With a thunder like lions; all aims And lumbering moves To trap this outrageous nimble queen And shatter to atoms Her nine so slippery lives. Sighting the stratagem Of black weight, black bail, black truck, With a last artful dodge she leaps Through hoop of that hazardous dream To sit up stark awake As the loud alarmclock stops.
Now as penalty for her skill, By day she must walk in dread Steel gaunticts of traffic, terror-struck Lest, out of spite, the whole Elaborate scaffold of sky overhead Fall racketing finale on her luck.
-- Sylvia Plath
it’s a little late but it’s finally here: the result of experience, hallucinatory late-night conversations, and workshops. it’s about relationships, music, movies, literature, stimulants, bad habits, vices, & decisions. for fans of all of the above. click the photo to download.
The undoubted highlight among Houghton’s miniature books is a collection of nine tiny manuscripts created by Charlotte Brontë and her brother Branwell in their early teens. Handmade and extremely delicate, the books have now been conserved and completely digitized. For more on these remarkable volumes, see this story in the Harvard Gazette.