The Book of SmallThe legendary Emily Carr was primarily a painter, but she first gained recognition as an author. She wrote seven popular, critically acclaimed books about her journeys to remote Native communities and about her life as an artist—as well as her life as a small child in Victoria at the turn of the last century. The Book of Small is a collection of 36 short stories about a childhood in a town that still had vestiges of its pioneer past. With an uncanny skill at bringing people to life, Emily Carr tells stories about her family, neighbours, friends and strangers—who run the gamut from genteel people in high society to disreputable frequenters of saloons—as well as an array of beloved pets. All are observed through the sharp eyes and ears of a young, ever-curious and irrepressible girl, and Carr’s writing is a disarming combination of charm and devastating frankness. Carr’s writing is vital and direct, aware and poignant, and as well regarded today as when she was first published to both critical and popular acclaim. The Book of Small has been in print ever since its publication in 1942, and, like Klee Wyck, has been read and loved by a couple of generations. |
Contents
| 13 | |
THE COW YARD | 27 |
THE BISHOP AND THE CANARY | 38 |
THE BLESSING | 40 |
SINGING | 44 |
THE PRAYING CHAIR | 50 |
MRS CRANE | 58 |
WHITE CURRANTS | 72 |
NEW NEIGHBORS | 124 |
VISITING MATRONS | 126 |
SERVANTS | 130 |
EAST AND WEST | 134 |
A CUP OF TEA | 136 |
CATHEDRAL | 139 |
CEMETERY | 141 |
SCHOOLS | 144 |
THE ORANGE LILY | 75 |
HOW LIZZIE WAS SHAMED RIGHT THROUGH | 78 |
BRITISH COLUMBIA NIGHTINGALE | 85 |
TIME | 89 |
II | 95 |
BEGINNINGS | 97 |
JAMES BAY AND DALLAS ROAD | 101 |
SILENCE AND PIONEERS | 105 |
SALOONS AND ROADHOUSES | 111 |
WAYS OF GETTING AROUND | 115 |
FATHERS STORE | 120 |
CHRISTMAS | 147 |
REGATTA | 152 |
CHARACTERS | 156 |
LOYALTY | 163 |
DOCTOR AND DENTIST | 170 |
CHAIN GANG | 174 |
COOK STREET | 179 |
WATERWORKS | 183 |
FROM CARR STREET TO JAMES BAY | 188 |
GROWN UP | 200 |
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Common terms and phrases
Alice antimacassar Auntie baby Bay Bridge beach Beacon Hill Beacon Hill Park beautiful big sister bird Birdcage Walk Bishop boat Bong Book of Small boys British Columbia bushes Caledonian Park Canadian canoes Carr Street chair Chinese church Church Hill corner Cow Yard Crane currants dead Dede ditch dogcart dolls door Driard Emily Carr Empress Hotel English Esquimalt everything eyes face Father Father’s fence flowers front garden gate green hair hands harbour head Helen horse Indian James kissed kitchen knew ladies legs lily little girls Lizzie looked lots lovely middle Miss Langley Mitchell Molly Hughes Mother mud flats never night nose O’Flahty pink poked round round the Horn saloon shut side sing sitting skunk cabbages smell Songhees splendid stood stopped straight Sunday tail things took town tree Victoria wild window
Popular passages
Page 3 - We commonly do not remember that it is, after all, always the first person that is speaking. I should not talk so much about myself if there were any body else whom I knew as well.
Page 18 - Father wanted his place to look exactly like England. He planted cowslips and primroses and hawthorn hedges and all the Englishy flowers. He had stiles and meadows and took away all the wild Canadian-ness and made it as meek and English as he could.
Page 6 - ... the glory and the dream' . . . amid all the commonplaces of life, I was very near to a kingdom of ideal beauty. Between it and me hung only a thin veil. I could never draw it quite aside, but sometimes a wind fluttered it and I caught a glimpse of the enchanting realm beyond— only a glimpse— but those glimpses have always made life worth while.
Page 3 - My advice to memoir writers is to embark upon a memoir for the same reason that you would embark on any other book: to fashion a text. Don't hope in a memoir to preserve your memories. If you prize your memories as they are, by all means avoid — eschew — writing a memoir. Because it is a certain way to lose them. You can't put together a memoir without cannibalizing your own life for parts. The work battens on your memories. And...
Page 13 - ... times before it poured. Dede got the brown windsor soap, heated the towels and put on a thick white apron with a bib. Mother unbuttoned us and by that time the pots and kettles were steaming. Dede scrubbed hard. If you wriggled, the flat of the long-handled tin dipper came down spankety on your skin. As soon as each child was bathed Dede took it pick-aback and rushed it upstairs through the cold house. We were allowed to say our prayers kneeling in bed on Saturday night, steamy, brown-windsory...
Page 16 - ... could not buy in Canada then. The tin oven had a jack which you wound up like a clock and it turned the roast on a spit. It said 'tick, tick, tick' and turned the meat one way, and then 'tock, tock, tock' and turned it the other. The meat sizzled and sputtered. Someone was always opening the little door in the back to baste it, using a long iron spoon, with the dripping that was caught in a pan beneath the meat. Father said no roast under twenty pounds was worth eating because the juice had all...