Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Bad books

Well, not really bad, but not really good either. I spent yesterday reading dime novels published in 1823. The work began through a interesting discovery, as does most work at the AAS, and the discovery led me to explore a handful of the 37-some titles published by William Borradaile's New York publishgin operation in the early 1820s. I chose Borradaile because his re-issuing of Life, Travels, and Daring Engagements of Paul Jones. Borradaile's edition interests me for its re-inclusion of the picture of John Paul Jones shooting one of his crew in the face for striking the American colors during a battle with the British Serapis during the Revolution. Based on my reading, this Lt. Grubb misunderstood the situation on board -- he heard no response from Jones when the ship was hailed by the British captain. Assuming his leader dead, he moved to strike the colors, concede the battle, and hope for quarter rather than death. Jones, certainly no thoughtful Hamlet when in battle, turned on his lieutenant and punished him for mutiny -- at least, that's the way it seems. The jury is still out on whether a) there really was a Grubb on board the Bon Homme Richard, Jones's ship, and if he was, b) whether Jones's actions make him a strong leader or a "notorious pirate," as some advertise the naval icon.

So, I looked at the other things printed by Borradaile. Robin Hood and Robin-hood type stories, mostly. Righteous robbers and escaped slaves-turned pirate -- choosing these lives outside social and legal appropriateness only as a last resort. Thinking about circumstance defining the representation of outlaws, I'm led to think that Jones becomes heroic after a brief stint as "notorious pirate" for his ability to parlay his vengeful, violent, explosive tendencies into a celebrated military career. Not all of the outlaws were so lucky and many died a fairly violent death (one robber was murdered and then had his head cut off by a jealous associate hoping to collect the reward for taking the man's life. When the head didn't weigh enough -- reward apparently being based on head weight -- he bore a hold in the skull and filled it with lead. Good times.) Jones ends up with a glowing reputation in the nineteenth century, despite his inglorious reputation in the eighteenth, but lacks an "end story" necessary to memorialize him. The government doesn't know of Jones's burial spot in France until after the 1850s. This missing conclusion to the story differentiates the Jones story from the others -- and it shows the public's preoccupation with his story. No one can close the book until they know how it ends. And in 1823, we don't know how Jones ends yet.

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