{"id":64805,"date":"2014-01-10T16:50:31","date_gmt":"2014-01-10T21:50:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=64805"},"modified":"2016-04-03T18:39:20","modified_gmt":"2016-04-03T22:39:20","slug":"what-were-loving-francoise-mouly-the-minneapolis-sound-lucile-ltd-s-autumn-1905-collection","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2014\/01\/10\/what-were-loving-francoise-mouly-the-minneapolis-sound-lucile-ltd-s-autumn-1905-collection\/","title":{"rendered":"What We\u2019re Loving: Mouly, Minneapolis, Mari\u00e9"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"purple<\/a>

Purple Snow<\/i>, by the Numero Group.<\/p><\/div>\n

I\u2019ve been marveling over Jeet Heer\u2019s In Love with Art<\/i><\/a>, a monograph on Fran\u00e7oise Mouly, an editor (The New Yorker<\/i>, RAW<\/i>) and publisher whose significance has long been underappreciated. Trust Heer not to make that mistake; he credits Mouly as having had \u201cas massive and transformative an impact on comics as Ezra Pound had on modernist literature, Max Perkins on early-twentieth-century American novels or Gordon Lish on contemporary fiction.\u201d No small claim, but Mouly is truly without peer. She made her way through the male-dominated comics scene by helping to carve out a place for that work in the world. She not only edited and designed and colored the covers of RAW<\/i>, she manned the presses. In fact, the photographs of Mouly helming the Multilith press she and Spiegelman had in their loft are pretty great. What can\u2019t she do? \u2014Nicole Rudick<\/b><\/p>\n

I was the last of three siblings to move to New York\u2014and was very much a beneficiary, when I finally arrived, of my brother and sister\u2019s having made a familial haunt of B&H, the longstanding East Village diner. (Never been? Brave the cold and treat yourself to a bowl of New York\u2019s very best borscht.) I came upon a\u00a0brief history of the place<\/a>\u00a0this week on\u00a0Jeremiah\u2019s Vanishing New York<\/i>, which features\u00a0photos<\/a>\u00a0from the collection of Florence Bergson Goldberg (the daughter of founder Abie Bergson\u2014the \u201cB\u201d of B&H) and reminiscences from longtime counterman Leo Ratnofsky.\u00a0Profiled in a Talk of the Town piece<\/a>\u00a0in 1978,\u00a0Ratnofsky\u00a0had this to say on the last morning of his thirty-eight-year stint: \u201cI don\u2019t feel bad about leaving the\u00a0place<\/i>. I\u2019ve got bad feet, my fingernails are being eaten away from squeezing oranges. But to leave all these\u00a0people<\/i>\u2014that makes me feel like crying. These actors and actresses, the hippies, the yippies, the beatniks, the bohemians, people who\u2019ve run away from God knows where\u2014I\u2019ve always felt an attraction to them. Especially the starving ones.\u201d \u2014Stephen Hiltner<\/b><\/p>\n

Purple Snow<\/a><\/i> is a four-LP salute to the progenitors of the Minneapolis Sound, a brand of synth-driven R&B that came bounding out of the City of Lakes in the late seventies\u2014it was a flurry of creativity that culminated in the rise of Prince and the propulsive, eminently danceable pop of the eighties. Jon Kirby wrote the compilation\u2019s prodigious liner notes, which come in a handsome clothbound book (purple, of course). Full of photographs and interviews, the notes are smart and disarmingly personal: they tell the story of an ambitious, competitive, and deeply intimate community of musicians who left an indelible mark on music, even if only one of them went on to superstardom. \u2014Dan Piepenbring<\/b> <\/p>\n

One of my New Year\u2019s resolutions is to use the library more and stop spending all of my spare quarters on books. So when a \u201cCustomers Who Bought This Item Also Bought\u201d thumbnail on Amazon led me to the brink of purchasing Lucile Ltd.<\/a><\/i>, I checked it out from the NYPL instead. A history of Lucile Ltd., the influential turn-of-the-century British fashion house founded by Lucile, Lady Duff Gordon, this book\u2019s main attraction is the beautiful reproduction of a fashion album, From Lucile Ltd. Autumn 1905<\/i>, which is sandwiched between essays about the house and its leading lady. The album includes watercolor sketches of the season\u2019s offerings, complete with fabric and trimming swatches next to each. All are pinched-waisted Edwardian dreams of abundant lace and elegantly trailing skirts; some dresses have titles: \u201cLove while you may\u201d (an innocent-looking dotted-swiss number), \u201cAfterwards\u2014Nothing\u201d (black, rather somber), \u201cThe tender grace of a day that is dead\u201d (a surprisingly jolly bottle-green gown with matching flowered hat; outfit completed by a pair of opera glasses). Lady Duff Gordon was an imaginative woman. She also survived the sinking of the Titanic<\/i><\/a>, staged the first precursors to the modern catwalk-style fashion shows, and wins first prize for best-ever autobiography title: Discretions and Indiscretions<\/i>. Let\u2019s just say that this resolution isn\u2019t going to last very long, as a copy of Lucile Ltd.<\/i>\u00a0clearly belongs on my bookshelf. \u2014Clare Fentress<\/b><\/p>\n

A few weeks ago, I went to see Beauty\u2019s Legacy: Gilded Age Portraits in America<\/a> <\/i>at the New York Historical Society. One of the oddest components of the show is what is known as the Gallery of Beauty, twenty-five miniature portraits from the collection of one Peter Mari\u00e9. In all, Mari\u00e9\u2014a well-known socialite who retired at forty after amassing a mercantile fortune\u2014commissioned more than three hundred of these, and it was apparently considered a big deal to be asked to sit. While the portraits were meant to commemorate the greatest beauties of the era\u2014and many of the ladies pictured are indeed very handsome\u2014one can\u2019t help but suspect, looking at them, that a few were chosen more for their social status than on pure aesthetic merits. But so one might expect of a man who, as the New York Times<\/i> wrote in Mari\u00e9\u2019s 1903 obituary<\/a>, \u201cmay be called the last gentleman of the old school in New York society.\u201d It continued, \u201cHis life as a bachelor suited him \u2026 It was the custom for men to marry young in the antebellum days, and Mr. Mari\u00e9 was one of the very few bachelors in town, who, although most gallant and most devoted to the fair sex, was content with his own lot, and who lived in a house of his own and entertained as a bachelor host.\u201d<\/p>\n

At the same show, I was struck by a portrait of one Samuel Untermyer. \u201cThat guy looks exactly like you!\u201d I said to my dad, who responded, \u201cYou\u2019re just saying that because he\u2019s the only Jew.\u201d First of all, he really looked like him. Second, he wasn\u2019t <\/i>the only Jew: there were also portraits of Mr. and Mrs. Leonard Lewisohn, prominent members of nineteenth-century German-Jewish society. Seeing these prompted me to dig out my copy of Stephen Birmingham\u2019s classic Our Crowd: The Great Jewish Families of New York<\/i>. The Lewisohns (and their feud with the Guggenheims) are all over the book, which chronicles the fabled \u201cOne Hundred,\u201d a set which, in its own way, rivaled the Patricians in exclusivity and which, as the author wrote in his introduction, \u201cwere the closest thing to Aristocracy\u2014Aristocracy in the best sense\u2014that the city, and perhaps the country, had seen.\u201d \u2014Sadie O. Stein<\/b><\/p>\n

It\u2019s been a weird week: Cormac McCarthy\u2019s ex-wife pulls a gun out of her vagina, Shia LaBeouf announces his early retirement, Mellow Pages Library\u2019s ExxonMobil hoax. Last night, I sat in my living room staring at my Christmas tree, questioning whether it was time to take it down. Instead, I reread Mary Ruefle\u2019s reflection on, naturally, Christmas trees<\/a>. My tree is not real (allergies), but as Ruefle comments, \u201cwhen you look at them you can\u2019t tell the difference. That always makes people happy\u2014not being able to tell the difference.\u201d Afterward, I found a link to The Private World of James Jones<\/a><\/i>, an insightful documentary about the From Here to Eternity<\/i> writer, and at one point Jones comments, \u201cMy early life was the slow and painful discovery that human beings are not so human after all, and I think everyone has to go through that.\u201d Whatever it all meant, it seemed fitting to end the week with Ruefle\u2019s aptly-named poem \u201cFrom Here to Eternity,\u201d which begins:<\/p>\n

\n

One day you wake up
and your life is over.
But it doesn\u2019t mean
you have to die.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

\u2014Justin Alvarez<\/b><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I\u2019ve been marveling over Jeet Heer\u2019s In Love with Art, a monograph on Fran\u00e7oise Mouly, an editor (The New Yorker, RAW) and publisher whose significance has long been underappreciated. Trust Heer not to make that mistake; he credits Mouly as having had \u201cas massive and transformative an impact on comics as Ezra Pound had on […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[438],"tags":[12522,9043,5254,12521,12520,12523,12525,10366,1329,12524],"class_list":["post-64805","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-this-weeks-reading","tag-bh","tag-francoise-mouly","tag-gilded-age","tag-in-love-with-art","tag-jeet-heer","tag-leo-ratnofsky","tag-lucile-ltd","tag-mary-ruefle","tag-prince","tag-purple-snow"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nWhat We\u2019re Loving: Mouly, Minneapolis, Mari\u00e9 by The Paris Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"January 10, 2014 \u2013 I\u2019ve been marveling over Jeet Heer\u2019s In Love with Art, a monograph on Fran\u00e7oise Mouly, an 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