If you are looking for the humor writer Emily Kimbrough’s Pleasure by the Busload, you will be surprised to find it in the travel section.
Kimbrough is best known for Our Hearts Were Young and Gay, co-written by the actress Cornelia Otis Skinner. This comic memoir recounts the two Bryn Mawr roommates’ adventures on a trip to Europe.
Much as I love this book, I find their separate volumes of humor columns even more charming. Skinner and Kimbrough both pursued writing careers, and though Skinner has more fans, I prefer Kimbrough’s slightly more down-to-earth writing.
I am especially a fan of Kimbrough’s Forty Plus and Fancy-Free. Before a trip to Italy, Emily and her friend Sophy enroll in an Italian course at the Berlitz School. Sophy is fluent from the first day, rolling her r “like Caruso… on the stage of the Metropolitan,” while Kimbrough’s own delivery ” had been uncompromisingly Muncie, Indiana.”
To shelve Kimbrough’s books in the travel section seemed to be a catalogueing mistake. But sure enough, Pleasure by the Busload, an amusing account of her trip to Portugal with the aforementioned Sophy and other friends, was next to a humorous travel book by the columnist Art Buchwald.
In Portugal, Sophy has rented a Volkswagen Microbus, which Emily mistakes for a delivery truck. No one had told her it would be as big as a trailer. “… the step from ground to floorboard was a span well over three feet, not possible to accomplish in a tight skirt except by raising it to sufficiently to to allow one’s knees full play. I was to learn this never failed to charm the Portuguese within eyesight to a rapt scrutiny of the procedure.”
The men are expert oglers both in Portugal and Italy. In Forty Plus and Fancy Free, there is ogling, whistling, and possibly pinching. The women call out that they are grandmothers, but this doesn’t stop them.
There are wonderful women’s presses out there: Virago, Persephone, British Library Women Writers, The Feminist Press, and Furrowed Middlebrow. But some books are perennially forgotten, and here are some of my favorites that are worthy of revival.
1. Pamela Hansford Johnson’s Helena trilogy. These complex, witty novels, Too Dear for My Possessing, An Avenue of Stone, and A Summer to Decide, delineate the the changing relationship between the narrator, art historian Claud Pickering, and his histrionic stepmother, Helena, a former chorus girl, amidst the disintegrating class boundaries of postwar society. His beloved half-sister, who must deal not only with Helena but a deadbeat husband, is perhaps his favorite person. These books are as good as Anthony Powell’s Dance to the Music of Time!
2. Library of America has rediscovered Nancy Hale in recent years, publishing her novel The Prodigal Women and a collection of her brilliant short stories. I strongly recommend Nancy Hale’s two charming out-of-print memoirs, A New England Girlhood, which delineates her unique childhood as the daughter of two artists, and Life in the Studio, a memoir of her parents inspired by the relics she found while clearing out their studios after their deaths.
Life in the Studio is my favorite: Hale and her mother comically disagree about many subjects, including fashion. In 1928 Lilian wore a new black cape to Nancy’s wedding to protect her wedding outfit, and Nancy despised it. Nancy felt that “if one was not wearing Chanel, pearls, a felt helmet and a knee-length coat clutched together at the hip, one might as well be dead.” But Lilian saved garments forever, sometimes arranging them for her paintings, or making patchwork quilts – but she mostly wore them. Nancy despaired: she had learned from an editor at Vogue “that no woman should have more than three outfits in a wardrobe at a time–one on her back, one in the closet, and one at the cleaners.”
Hale was the first woman reporter for The New York Times and a frequent contributor of short stories and autobiographical pieces to The New Yorker. She was the daughter of two painters, Philip L. Hale and Lilian Westcott Hale; the granddaughter of Edward Everett Hale, author of The Man Without a Country; the great-niece of Harriet Beecher Stowe (Uncle Tom’s Cabin) and Lucretia Peabody Hale (The Peterkin Papers); and a descendant of Nathan Hale.
3. Another book I’d dearly love to see back in print is Gladys Taber’s autobiographical novel, Mrs. Daffodil. The kind, witty heroine, Mrs. Daffodil, is almost Taber’s twin: she lives in the country with her widowed friend, Kay, and they raise children, dogs, cats, a pheasant, and a baby blue jay. Mrs. Daffodil, a writer, happily churns out a syndicated column called “Butternut Wisdom” and romantic short stories about young love, because readers are not interested in what she knows about, i.e., middle-aged widows. Mrs. Daffodil has a weight problem because she loves to try out magazine recipes that call for a pint of sour cream. When we first meet her she is having trouble zipping up a dress, and about to go on a diet. Fans of Taber’s Stillmeadow books will love this novel.
4. I am a great fan of Emily Kimbrough’s Forty Plus and Fancy-Free. Kimbrough is best known for Our Hearts Were Young and Gay, a hilarious travel memoir co-written with actress Cornelia Otis Skinner. But Kimbrough also had a solo writing career. In Forty Plus and Fancy-Free, Kimbrough, a fashion editor for The Ladies’ Home Journal , is trying to decide whether to travel to Italy with her friend, Sophy. Her employer agrees to give her a vacation if she covers the Coronation in England. I laughed hysterically over their Italian lessons at the Berlitz school, because who hasn’t had linguistic goof-ups? When a young man follows Sophy through the streets in Italy, she cows him by telling him she is a grandmother. And there are breathtaking descriptions of views and art, though usually with humorous comments.
5. How on earth can Alice Thomas Ellis’s classic humor books, Home Life, More Home Life, & Home Life Three, & Home Life Four be out-of-print? Ellis, a novelist, mother, editor,and a conservative Catholic, wrote these brilliant domestic columns originally for the Spectator. Home Life is vaguely like E. M. Delafield’s Provincial Lady, only urban, circa the 1980s. A white Persian cat is in the sink, so Ellis has difficulty brushing her teeth; a man mistakes her for a prostitute when she is in a bar with Beryl Bainbridge; she gets snowed in in the country; and the pipes burst and inundate a set of Thackeray.
What are your favorite out-of-print books? Informed minds want to know!
