More reviews from the class, with links to the texts.

• Louisa C. Osborne Haughton, “The Ever-Ready Edgar,” fiction. WOW, EDGAR!  What a player!!! I cannot believe how bold this man is. However, I love Eleanor not falling under his spell.  Honestly, it really seems like men have not changed since 1906.  I like this and think it is worth including because it addresses relationships at the time and it is relatable today. Also the ending is WILD. —Marina
• Emily Paret Atwater, Trixsey’s Travels, fiction. Finally, a work of children’s lit that doesn’t include dialect! Stories of Trixsey the squirrel and Pansey, the girl who keeps him. This seems like it’s a cute little collection. Trixsey speaks in “squirrel language” but Atwater, thankfully unlike Whitelock, doesn’t represent animal voices with racialized dialect. Bonus points for beginning in medias res and building up a little bit to the reveal that Trixsey is a squirrel.—Clara
• Emily Emerson Lantz, “Suburban Baltimore: North Charles St.,” newspaper feature. I’m continually impressed with the range and scope of Lantz’ knowledge pertaining to Maryland history. I can’t help but wonder how much of it she actually knew by heart, and how often she had to consult other sources. Anyway, given just how many works we have access to by her (upwards of 400), I’m thinking we might want to apply two filters for selection: (1) works pertaining to the history of Loyola and the surrounding area, and (2) works pertaining to women or womanhood. This work fulfills that first criteria. —Hunter
• Elizabeth Latimer, The Prince Incognito; novel. This was interesting because the writing varied so much from Latimer’s other fiction writing style. It also differed a lot from Litchfield’s style of writing with a swooning woman that seems to need a strong male counterpart. This has a lot of landscape description and it seems to be fiction based on some kind of historical or sociological background so it makes sense knowing that Latimer specializes in historical fiction and historical works. I would be interested in continuing to read this which I think says a lot about this work.—Ellen
• Lizette Woodworth Reese, “The Thrush in the Orchard” from A Quiet Road, poetry. This poem is very Victorian with its stanzas and expressions. This seems like a break-up poem at first with the talk of coldness in spring, spring often symbolizes new beginnings. But on the other hand, the more I read this poem, the more it sounds like a bad sexual experience. I have mixed feelings about this one. —Tara
• Virginia Woodward Cloud, “The Lecture” (1903): short fiction. This piece is hilarious and witty. I love the ironic depiction of feminist ideals which she upholds. I think this should definitely be included in the anthology, as it expresses the radical ideology of club members, as well as balances out some of the more conservative, Victorian pieces. Her use of accents is also a subtle hit on the “southern womanhood” which we find central to some club members. —Monica
• Lizette Woodworth Reese, A Wayside Lute, poetry. Another collection of her poems, this work was once again very melancholy – did Reese enjoy discussing sad things? Poems such as Tears, Taps, The Unforgotten Things, and The Shadow on the Dial (including many other works) were all very sad to read, and alluded to times past. Her poems seem to focus on how life is stuck in a doldrum state, where good times are long past, and we can only live in that past. After reading her poems, it makes me wonder – what happened to make Reese so sad? —Jonathan
• Lucy Meacham Thruston, Songs of the Chesapeake, poetry. This poetry collection was quality and beautifully illustrated. The poems were nature centric, but enjoyable to read. I also think the Maryland theme of the Chesapeake pertains to the geography of the group and is a theme many of the writers took up. The collection is also fairly short and I believe the whole thing could be included.—Katie Shiber

Things have been a little quiet on the blog because the class has been reading … reading … reading. Having collected literally hundreds (over 500 by my count) works by our industrious Club authors, we now have been trying to read and evaluate as many as we can. Our goal is to choose at least one work by each published author who belonged to the Club, and publish them in a volume we are tentatively titling Parole Femine: Words and Lives of the Woman’s Literary Club of Baltimore (1890-1941). 

(The title comes from the motto of the WLCB, “Parole Femine,” which in turn comes from the Maryland state motto, “Fatti Maschii, Parole Femine”—”Manly Deeds, Womanly Words.”)

We will be ready to release a table of contents pretty soon, and hope to preview some of the book’s contents as well as provide more profiles of authors in the upcoming weeks. In the meantime, here is a sampling of capsule reviews written by members of the class. You can read the works for yourselves by accessing them on our WLCB archive site through the links provided– and please, we’d love to get your comments!

• “The Ever-Ready Edgar,” by Louisa C. Osborne Haughton. We have to include this one. It’s a revenge story in which four women team up against a playboy, all of whom had previously been seduced by him. There’s some enormous plotholes/coincidences: all of the women Edgar courts share the same initials as himself (E.M.), and all of them happen to be acquainted despite the fact that he met and interacted with them all over the globe. This one was discussed at club meetings at least once—maybe several times. Furthermore, its subject matter deals overtly with gender.—Hunter Flynn
• “Anne” (Her Eyes are Like the Violet), by Lizette Woodworth Reese (poem, 1887). This poem was read and discussed on June 3, 1890 during the 3rd Salon. “Anne” is a sweet and (in my reading) sapphically charged poem about an older woman admiring a young girl. The young girl is compared to violets, a flower symbolizing innocence. The girl’s innocence and goodness are also juxtaposed with the stiff, old tradition of the church, and the narrator concludes that she is unafraid of the preacher’s threats of hellfire because, “she is highest heaven to me.” It doesn’t get sweeter than that.—Katie Shiber
• “Two Negatives” (1889, short story), by Mary Spear Tiernan. This short story opens with women working in a Confederate treasury. I immediately said yikes, mostly because the Confederacy makes me cringe. However, I must say that I am glad I got past my initial reaction, because this story was entertaining. One woman wants to let a man down easy instead of letting his proposal “dangle” like all the other men she writes to (bringing up the question- how easy was it to get a marriage proposal back then?).  The ending has a fun twist, with a case of mistaken identity getting settled with new romance.—Marina Fazio
• How Sammy Went to Coral-Land, by Emily Paret Atwater (children’s fiction, 1902). About a salmon named Sammy who ventured from the north to Coral-Land. He goes on a journey where he meets others unlike him. He learns that a hug from an octopus is not affection, but the squeeze of death as well as a school of fish is not a classroom with a teacher. Sammy encountered many situations and obstacles to find out what he was looking for were right there all the time—HOME. —Ju’waun Morgan
• Buttercups and Daisies, by Elizabeth Graham (poetry, 1884): poetry. Graham uses fairytale, sing-songy rhymes, and her poetry centers around romantic, mystical imagery. Nevertheless, the physical appearance of her book of poems—both the font used and the illustrations—is gorgeous. I enjoy the poem “Children of the Sun,” finding the subject matter deeper than merely child-like poetry. The language is simple but somewhat sensual, which surprised me. The book of poetry praises summer and spring in relatively generic ways, but I still find the text beautiful and intriguing because of the typeface and illustrations. There appears a turn with the poem “Mid-Summer”, and the urgency within the poem illustrates the fleeting time left in the season. I think that and “Waiting” are stronger than the poems that precede. —Monica Malouf
• “The Tale of the Wild Cat,” by Maud Early (folklore?, 1897). I chose this to read first for the title only and thank God I did. This is so bizarre and fantastic. I love it. Without a doubt should be included. Also, I love how she says “they are very rude primitive drawings at any rate” as if that weren’t completely evident already. I can conclude by this that Maud Early has too much time on her hands, but nonetheless, I am pleased. —Ellen Roussel
• A Royal Pawn of Venice, by Francese Litchfield Turnbull (novel, 1911). I don’t not like it. It’s another one that I can’t really tell if it’s good. It reminds me of books on royalty I used to read as a kid, so I’m not sure if it’s meant to be for children or not. I like the switch of perspectives in the chapters. I also think it’s funny the way Turnbull throws in random Italian words to prove she is #fortheculture. “Dio! But it was good to be born in Venice, where life was a festa!” —Katie Kazmierski
• Pollyanna’s Jewels, by Harriet Lummis Smith (novel, 1925). The story begins with Pollyanna and a man named Jimmy moving to Boston with their children Jimmy Junior, Judy and a baby named “Baby.” Pollyanna’s job is to be a stay-at-home mother and care for the children. She also has to deal with bothersome pets and troublesome relatives. The story is actually very dark which surprised me greatly. During the story, a boy name Philip loses both of his parents because they left everyone to be together (leaving their own child behind). People living in the neighborhood are extremely mean to Phillip and shun him because of his family. Pollyanna feels pity for Phillip, and attempts to be nice to him, but will not allow her own children to play with Phillip because she fears her family will be shunned also. Overall, the story has additional sub-plots that seem to all turn to a dark ending. Going into this book, I was under the assumption that it would be cheerful, but in reality, it was very sad. I don’t recommend reading the book unless you enjoy sad endings. —Jonathan Flink
• “De Clar Pitcher” by Letitia Yonge Wrenshall (story, 1906): This is……….Not Good. I don’t know why I expected anything other than bad racialized dialect from Mrs. Wrenshall, but here we are. As I think some others have pointed out, this might be good to include since it so perfectly captures the insidious racism present through the highest offices of Club leadership. —Clara Love
• The Cottage by the Sea, by Mrs. James Casey Coale (novel). The book offers a messy and unplanned plot which becomes incredibly predictable when devices are introduced. There is almost no character development at all. It felt like there was this big, grand, Victorian novel in the making by Coale, but she shaved everything down so much that it lost almost any significance as a piece of writing. The only redeemable aspect of this novel was Coale’s description of the main character and her best friend: “The two girls kissed each other, and now began the day of all the week to each of them. It was the one in which they were the happiest. It seemed as if they could not do enough for each other. The benefits of this friendship was mutual, for the refinement of their ideas which one imparted was received by the other, and it did not have the effect of lifting her out of the sphere in which she had been placed, and in which she contented, because she was good and happy. Nelly gave such true affection to her friends that it was a benefit to them on both sides. A true loving nature does bestow happiness to those, who have that in them, that is able to receive and appreciate kindness. The minds of some unfortunate people being so filled with either envy or jealousy, or both, there is no room for a better feeling” (11). —Tara Brooky
• “Finding Five-Cent Christmas Opportunities,” by Emily Emerson Lantz (journalism, 1915). This is weird. It feels a bit like one of those commercials designed to bring tourism to a city that is, once you get there, kind of lames. But I can’t explain why I enjoyed reading it so much. It really gives you a picture of some of the best Baltimore had to offer for five cents in 1915, with shout-outs to just about every major landmark in the city (including Loyola College in its downtown location). Lantz is clearly an animated writer, and I would love to see some stuff like this included. Made me crave fried oyster and wienerwurst. (This is admittedly only interesting to a niche audience.) —Hunter Flynn
• Old Manors in the Colony of Maryland, by Annie Leakin Sioussat (history, 1913). Old Manors in the Colony of Maryland is a nonfiction account of a bunch of rich white man stealing land from Native Americans and pouring their money onto it. The content is not particularly appetizing. She clearly has a pride of the land and those who “settled” it, collecting from the dedication that her ancestors were among them. I am unsure as to how much this work would contribute to the anthology and the ends we seek to accomplish. —Katie Shiber

Bizarrely, today in my Facebook feed a “timeline memory” post popped up from 4 years ago, sharing a Loyola Magazine story that describes research on the Woman’s Literary Club of Baltimore done by Courtney Cousins ’14 for a course I taught on the History of the Novel in the US in Fall 2013. Courtney’s project was the genesis of this semester’s class. I thought you all might enjoy this bit of hyper-local history.

And to complete the circle, the author of the Loyola Magazine article, Brigid Hamilton, took one of the first seminars I taught here at Loyola … back in 2003 or 2004, I think. It was on the History of the Book in America, a pre-cursor to the History of the Novel in the US class that Courtney took in 2013.

History repeats itself, as they say!