« Poison’s not bad. It’s a matter of how much. » — Keith Richards
Regular readers of this blog will perhaps recall my fondness for those little Peter Pauper Press books of Mount Vernon, NY — at least those of the publisher’s halcyon years (1928-1981). I’ve cast a light on their edition of Ambrose Bierce’s The Devil’s Dictionary and, in the course of last year’s countdown, their Comic Epitaphs From the Very Best Old Graveyards.
This time around, I’m tackling one of the rare and fairly expensive ones* — that I’m aware of — Cooking to Kill: the Poison Handbook (1951), which proposes « Comic recipes for the Ghoul, Cannibal, Witch & Murderer. Stewing and potting mothers-in-law. Tested recipes for spoiled brats, business rivals, and strayed lovers. »
« Anybody can kill vulgarly. But we should be above the brutal, the direct, the unappetizing approach. This little book will teach you to tickle the palates of your guests so that they will be happy to linger at your table, charmed to malinger, and grateful to take off for the Great Adventure with the taste of your superlative cooking still on their lips! » — from Prof. Ebezener Murgatroyd’s preface to his ‘gentle reader’.
The book is magnificently illustrated by Herb Roth (1887-1953), who spent much of his career toiling as H.T. Webster‘s assistant and ghost. Roth enjoyed a long association with the Peter Pauper Press, illustrating its very first two books, Faithless Sally Brown and Faithless Nellie Gray.
« Head Cheese garni à la Salomé » « Tomato Surprise (Asp in the Grass): this luncheon delicacy should be served only to ladies, as you will find their charming soprano shrieks particularly rewarding. »It’s hard to not think of Joseph Kesselring’s fabled Arsenic and Old Lace, written in 1939.« Walnut Balls: smash nuts with a hammer, fashion into balls and fry in deep fat until a golden brown. Delicious withcoq au vin. »« Chocolate Noose… will help you to execute a crime of considerable chic, and will add a je ne sais quoi to the court proceedings. »« Stuffed Spoiled Brat: select a fine specimen which has been spoiling for a good long time, and capture at opportune moment. » « Crêpes Suzette: take one tractor, and apply to Suzette, rolling in both directions so that an even flatness is achieved. Be careful to eliminate all lumps. Fry flattened Suzette in butter, and roll. Sprinkle generously with Cointreau, light with a blowtorch, and serve on the end of a sword. The French zey are peculiar, n’est-ce pas? »« Marinated Leeks: take a leek, marinate in French dressing, and combine with tender green peas. Serve with asparagus for a very special flavour. Sprinkle with cyanide for that final touch! »« Potted Mother-in-Law: stew Mother-in-law by luring her into the kitchen and pot her with a beaker of martinis to which has been added a pinch of potent powder. Or for quicker results, creep up from behind and apply blunt end of hammer to head. A kindly touch would be to let her have the last word. Remove meat from bones, chop, stew in butter and serve on toast. »This brings to mind those gleefully morbid rhymes about Little Willie, essentially the original Gashlycrumb Tiny. A sample: Willie saw some dynamite/Couldn’t understand it quite/Curiosity never pays/It rained Willie seven days.Why, some enterprising soul has even created these exclusive earrings! Just don’t sport them during the investigation and/or trial. Nobody likes a braggart.
-RG
*the single most sought-after PPP entry is without question Kathryn Paulsen‘s Witches’ Potions and Spells (1971). Just try getting your hands on a cheap copy!
« Epitaph: a memorial that usually lies about the one below. » — Unknown
Ah, those lovely Peter Pauper Press books! They once were far easier to find*, but time marches on. This one’s a lightly macabre old favourite from 1957, wryly illustrated by long-time New Yorker cartoonist Henry R. Martin.
It is prefaced with this caveat: « The following collection of gravestone inscriptions is hardly a serious historical one. Most of the items are genuine, but many are suspect, and a few are frankly contrived. In some cases genuine inscriptions have been somewhat altered, and the place names are not reliable. Scholars are therefore warned not to find fault; but all men — and also any women who choose — are invited to read further for a little ghoulish amusement. »
-RG
*confirmed — anecdotally, I’ll grant you — by a visit, yesterday, to Maine’s spectacular Big Chicken Barn, where I didn’t stumble onto a single solitary PPP title.
« Goodbye—if you hear of my being stood up against a Mexican stone wall and shot to rags, please know that I think that a pretty good way to depart this life. It beats old age, disease, or falling down the cellar stairs. To be a Gringo in Mexico — ah, that is euthanasia. » — Ambrose Bierce, writing to his niece in the fall of 1913.
There’s a profusion of biographical material out there on the topic of Ambrose Gwinnett Bierce (June 24, 1842- ??), but here’s a capsule version to get the preliminaries out of the way:
« Ambrose Bierce was an angry young man who got angrier as he grew older. His strong talent was directed always by bitterness and despair. His wonderful stories were weird, cynical, shocking. His life was restless, his temper outrageous, and his death violent. »
Bearce belongs to a select club of larger-than-life American literary figures (among which we might also encounter Messrs. Poe, Twain, Lovecraft, Hemingway, and perhaps Vonnegut), whose life and work inspired, and continues to inspire, countless adaptations in all media, imitations and parodies, appropriations. You know the drill: works by, works about, works starring the author as protagonist.
In addition to the expected adaptations of varying quality, Bierce’s own nebulous ending inspired both fiction (Gerald Kersh‘s 1957 short story ‘The Oxoxoco Bottle‘, in which the narrator discovers a manuscript, in Bierce’s hand, that recounts the extraordinary events that followed his disappearance) and speculative non-fiction, by which I mean Jake Silverstein‘s fascinating 2002 essay, The Devil and Ambrose Bierce: Well Met in Marfa, which you can read here).
Since there’s so much to take in, I’ll fall back on my usual coping strategy, keeping my focus narrow to avoid (further) losing it. We’re going to explore my two favourite editions of a defining Bierce work, The Devil’s Dictionary, first published in 1906 as The Cynic’s Word Book.
Abasement, n. A decent and customary mental attitude in the presence of wealth or power. Peculiarly appropriate in an employee when addressing an employer.Commerce, n. A kind of transaction in which A plunders from B the goods of C, and for compensation B picks the pocket of D of money belonging to E.Edible, adj. Good to eat, and wholesome to digest, as a worm to a toad, a toad to a snake, a snake to a pig, a pig to a man, and a man to a worm.Prescription, n. A physician’s guess at what will best prolong the situation with least harm to the patient.This lovely edition, featuring illustrations by Joseph Low (1911-2007) was published in 1958 by the Peter Pauper Press of Mount Vernon, NY. This, as it happens, was my introduction to the series, picked up at a long-gone bookstore during a 1992 visit to Victoria, BC, a city that last year finally broke with its proud, longstanding tradition (begun in 1894!) of dumping its raw sewage into the Pacific ocean, surely to the relief of most Seattlites.
Then in 1979 came along a most handsome edition (Thomas Y. Crowell, Publishers) boasting a wealth of illustrations by Egyptian-born force of nature Jean-Claude Suarès (1942-2013).
Interpreter, n. One who enables two persons of different languages to understand each other by repeating to each what it would have been to the interpreter’s advantage to have said.Lawyer, n. One skilled in circumvention of the law.Longevity, n. Uncommon extension of the fear of death.
Medicine, n. A stone flung down the Bowery to kill a dog on Broadway.
Reflection, n. An action of the mind whereby we obtain a clearer view of our relation to the things of yesterday and are able to avoid the perils that we shall not again encounter.
Respite, n. A suspension of hostilities against a sentenced assassin, to enable the Executive to determine whether the murder may not have been done by the prosecuting attorney. Any break in the continuity of a disagreeable expectation.
Witch, n. (1) An ugly and repulsive old woman, in a wicked league with the devil. (2) A beautiful and attractive young woman, in wickedness a league beyond the devil.
For the sake of comparison, here’s Mr. Low’s rendition of same:
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Zoology, n. The science and history of the animal kingdom, including its king, the House Fly (Musca maledicta). The father of zoology was Aristotle, as is universally conceded, but the name of its mother has not come down to us. Two of the science’s most illustrious expounders were Buffon and Oliver Goldsmith, from both of whom we learn (L’histoire générale des animaux and A History of Animated Nature) that the domestic cow sheds its horns every two years.
Happy 180th anniversary, Mr. Bierce, wherever you may roam!
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