Mimpish imaging

[lblanchard]

I now have in my possession (temporarily) an extremely battered and partially disbound copy of E. H. M. Cox, Reginald Farrer's Last Journey, on loan from an undisclosed source. Since it's lacking structural integrity, it lies perfectly flat. There's no pdf version available, so I'm inclined to make one myself.

Check out this image (click to embiggen):



I took it with my iPhone. I need to mess with the lighting (I just shoved it under the grow-lights, which was suboptimal). I cut the pages apart [that is to say, the images of the pages -- I did not disbind the book any further!] and converted them to pdf, and ran OCR on it. It missed a big chunk on the bottom of the left-hand page, which I think has something to do with the light levels, so I'll play some more. It will make a fine addition to my library, even if it's not a professional-quality pdf.

This is Farrer being colloquial; Cox is quoting a personal letter from him. Check out the final paragraph, about leeches -- pure comedy gold.

(I am now officially obsessed with this project.)

Comments

[clindau.livejournal.com]

I would get rather squawkaceous myself, if I found a leech on my leg. What a great word.

[pondhopper.livejournal.com]

His language is highly entertaining. I wonder if he spoke like that. He certainly does have a most unique turn of phrase.

[lblanchard.livejournal.com]

Replying to clindau and pondhopper in one comment:

Yeah, I'd be squawkaceous, and it's the kind of words we make up Chez Blanchard, too. Maybe that's why I like this guy so much.

I've been reading a fair bit about him, as I'm sure you're not surprised to learn. He was born with a cleft palate and hare lip. He had surgeries for both, and ultimately disguised the lip with a huge moustache -- but what surgery apparently could not correct was a high-pitched voice like a piercing whistle that apparently goes with that territory. And he was short, described as "almost dwarfish." His childhood was solitary; he was home-schooled, first encountering a lot of his peers as a student at Oxford, where he cultivated his speaking and writing manner.

Apparently he was sought after as a dinner guest and companion because he did indeed speak like that. One writer tells of a mountaineering trip wherein he insisted that everyone speak in rhyming couplets one day.

He was also described as "that rare individual, a Yorkshireman with an inferiority complex." If I were a hare-lipped dwarf, I'd be a little off kilter myself, I suppose.