Theatre Manners

One of the cultural differences we've noticed here is the protocol for live theatre. The shows are certainly as good as those we have seen in New York, San Francisco, Portland and St. Louis, but the behavior of the audience is quite different. Not only do people eat and drink in the threater, but they do so during the show! Also, forget about polite applause. These folks engage in catcalls and the sort of cheering that we Americans typically only see at high school graduations and football games. Today at The Lion King, the entire audience began clapping in time to the music during a particularly upbeat song. While I'm glad everyone was enjoying it, I was wishing I could hear the fantastic voices! Then, I was amused when the actor who played the villian, Scar, took his curtain call. Although he was fantastic, he was booed! When I saw his giant smile and the smiles of those around me who were participating in the booing, I realized it was actually a compliment. The audience was showing its approval by booing! All this drove hom the point that while they might look like us and we might even speak the same language, I'm definitely still in a foreign country! (Scott's note: I saw something very similiar when we saw Wicked. I couldn't believe that people were allowed into the theater late, forcing everyone else in the their row to stand to let them in and even more incredibly that most people brought to their seats a glass of wine, a drink or a beer into the theater. The thing is, they do all this as if it were still Shakespeare's Day and they were the groundlings and then they have the nerve to say that the Americans are the ones with no manners!)

Part I, Books In London: Libraries

At left, the entirety of the children's section at the London Central Library;

At right, the entire library!

With Laura and Meredith off enjoying London theater, Scott, Olivia and Cecily were at loose ends. We decided to make the most of our day by searching out books. To do this, we chose two venues: libraries and bookstores. It turned out to be a fascinating cultural experience. The first library we ventured to was the London Lending Library, which brags that it is the largest collection of books available for loan in the world. It probably lives up to that claim with 15 miles of shelving and over a million volumes in its collection. (It claims that as a matter of policy it never throws a book away, and it has been collecting since 1841.) We expected Boston public library, New York Public Library or something similiar. That wasn't quite right. We didn't get inside the front door. This is a membership library. The cost for an annual membership is $395 (about $530.) Since we chose not to pay the fee, we were helpfully referred to the public library at Leicester Square, identified on a tourist map as "London Central Library." So off we went, only to be further disappointed. The "library" is a single large room with a mezzanine. I doubt it is bigger than our library back home, despite the millions it allegedly serves. The children's "section" was essentially a closet. A cultural capital London may be--but only for those rich enough to take advantage of it. As much as anything, this experience makes me proud to be an American.

Part II, Books In London: Bookstores

Our foray to libraries having been an abysmal failure, we moved on to bookstores. We had done our research on the internet and found that both the largest and oldest bookstores in London are located off Piccadilly Circus. So we headed off to Waterstone and to Hatchard, respectively. Readers of this blog know that I've marvelled since we got here that in the country full of history bookstores always seem to be woefully understocked in the history section. Waterstone's did better than most: it had three sections of shelving dedictated to "British History"--the same footage dedicated to the history of transport and slightly less than was dedicated to military history. More interesting was the North American section, a single shelving unit, half of which was dedicated to places like Brazil and Argentina. An entire shelf was dedicated to Che Guevara. And Brits say Americans are challenged by geography! Hatcher's, in business since 1797, is a different story altogether. It has a clubby, wood paneled sort of feel, and an amazing collection. It reminded me of the movie, "84 Charing Cross Road" if you've ever seen it. They have more than 100,000 volumes in stock and ship any book published in the UK anywhere in the world. It unloaded my wallet for me, and will doubtless unload it in the future. As convenient as Amazon is, independent bookstores still have a place in the world.

Olivia's Journal: An Art Critic At The Tate

Today, I went to the Tate Britain. I have five paintings that I liked. Room three--"A Lady of the Spencer Family." by Anthony Van Dyke. Anthany Van Dyke was known for his cloth. He could do amasing cloth. My favorite peice of it was the dress. It had such a brilyant blue, and I love the light coming down on the silk. I also like the pearles. There a brilyant touch. The brilyant blue just litans up the dress. That's the first thing we saw that was my favorite. Next we went to room foar. I found two paintings that I liked. "Old Horse Guards" by Canaletto. Canaletto was most famous view-painter of his day. Wealthy English tourissts who visited Italy colected them. He deceided to visit London in 1746. He remained for the best part of ten years. It was painted in summer 1749 just before the building of the old horse guards (the low brick building in the center) wasvdemolished and replaced by new horse guards which still stands today. My favorite thing about it is you can see people on the left beeting a rug. Room four, "The Strode Family" by William Hogarth. What I like about it is that it has a really dark bacground but when you look at the clothes the picture brightans up. On the dress you can see how good the painter can paint the clothes but I think that Anthany Van Dyke does it better. I like the kind of dog the dogs are. I also like the red and blue. Next we went to room seven. We saw a painting of horses and foals. by George Stubbs. This is one out of at least ten that George Stubbs painted of mares and foals in 1760s. My favorite part was the ponys because I'm horse crazy. The history is a great history. The guide tald us an interesting story. Mr. Stubbs had an interesting story. If his neighbor's horse deid he would come over, get the dead horse and put it over he shoulder and bring it home carrying it on his shoulder.. (He would), cut it up to see how it's bones worked and paint the picture. Last we went to room 15 were we saw a picture called the "Britash Channle seen from the Dorsetshire Cliffs" by John Brett. This view is proble from the cliffs above Lulworth Cove in Dorsetshire. My favorite thing about it is the way the clouds look real and how he can make it look liek the sun was coming down on the water. If you look closely at the water you can see the water is made out of dots. I like the way it looks reel. My favorite piece was the John Brett one. [Editor's note: Olivia's post is original work, although she had the benefit of notes on each piece taken from the Tate website. The editor has added punctuation as necessary. The spelling is Olivia's.]

Learning About Fine Art At The Tate Britain

Today was about British art as we visited the Tate Britain art museum. Apparently, Olivia at least was confused as to our destination. The first thing Olivia she asked was whether there would be any paintings of fuzzy water lillies. Once we explained, again, that this is a British art museum, we were back on track. That said, as is the British way, they pretty much claim anything they want as their own, regardless of pedigree. We haven't yet figured out how American-born Benjamin West, JM Whistler and John Singer Sargent qualify as British but this doesn't seem to bother anybody and their works are proudly displayed. At least these Americans are from a former British colony. It is a bit more complicated to justify the exhibition of Polish art, which perhaps is why it is stuck off in a corner. At any rate, I digress. As always, the 8-year-old seemed curiously enthralled. She quickly picked her favorite paintings, memorizing their titles and artists. (Watch for a future post of her impressions.) And she has a good eye. When we took a formal tour in the late afternoon, we found ourselves returning to works which Olivia had already picked out as favorites! Even more impressive were 5-year-old Meredith and 3-year-old Cecily who correctly identified portraits of English monarchs without any prompting or context whatsoever. In Cecily's case, we walked into the very first room called the Tudor Gallery, and she asked (from her shoulder trhone), "Why is Henry da Eight giving that boy money?" The kids weren't the only ones learning things. One of the more interesting points of discussion along the way was provoked by a guide who told us that people seem to be either Reynolds or Gainsborough afficianados but not both. When we polled to see who fell into which camp, Laura and Scott were surprised to find themselves on opposite sides, with Laura favoring the campy Gainsboroughs (example at left above) while Scott preferred the more staid Reynolds paintings (example at right above). So vote, oh friends and family: which camp are you in?

The St. Pat's Day That Wasn't

OK, we told you earlier about the ambivalence which the English seemed to be approaching St. Patrick's Day--a day so significant in the American calendar that children have school parties to celebrate, everybody wears green to mark it, New York shuts down for it and the President of the United States makes a point of visiting with Irish leaders. Not so here in England, despite the fact that the English have sought to be overlords of Ireland since the days of Edward I and a good part of Ireland remains in British hands. There was no green here today. The front page of the BBC website doesn't even mention the holiday. There are no Irish-themed sales going on, and the newspapers are full of news about a criminal in Austria and a movie star involved in a skiing accident. Even the pubs don't play up the holiday. While the African-American President of the United States wears green ties, dies the fountains at the White House and drops hints that his mother was of Irish extraction, for Brits, March 17 is just another work day. Weird indeed.

Victoria and Albert: Third Time's a Charm

Today is the third time on this trip that we have been back either as a group or individually to the Victoria and Albert Museum, and still we didn't finish it. Perhaps that should come as no surprise. After all, the place has 9 MILES of corridors, 4.5 MILLION objects and covers 5,000 YEARS of history (give or take a century or two). All we can report at this point in our venture is that we gave it a valiant try. Unlike our previous two trips, we did take the guided tour this time. That was valuable and educational in and of itself, but a highlight was when the guide invited the girls to touch a genuine Chinese Ming Vase around 550 years old. We couldn't believe it, but tactile experiences are one of the hallmarks of the V&A. We discovered this again when Laura, Olivia and Meredith visited a special exhibition on the history of hats where they greatly enjoyed trying them on for size. Unfortunately, pictures were not allowed, but the girls returned determined to find Easter bonnets that would do the museum proud.

Meredith Tackles The Tough Stuff

You have to hand it to 5-year-old Meredith: Once she makes her mind to do something, she will not be deterred until its done. Thus, although Scott was surprised this morning when she announced that she was ready to write her name in cursive, he had no doubt she could do it. And she did. The writing on the top is Dad's (minus the hearts, which Meredith added later.) The bottom signature is Meredith's free-hand copy. Pretty good, for somebody who hasn't started kindergarten yet!

She Likes Me, She Really Likes Me!

Cecily and the Newspapers

This blog would not be complete without mentioning Cecily's obsession with the free newspapers handed out at no charge in London in front of the tube stops each evening. She collects them--all of them--each night and carries them home. Then she sits on the floor or on her bed and "reads" them, often after she was told to go to sleep. If she spots one left behind on the train, she won't be satisfied until she had captured it, opened it and "read" it. Her collection techniques are worth noting, too. Undeterred from her great height on Dad's shoulders, she somehow manages to get the attention of all the vendors, transfer the papers she has already picked up to the opposite hand and grab another one without Dad ever breaking stride. And once she's got them, she's plenty careful to keep them tucked up and out of Dad's face, since she knows the penalty for that is a quick trip to the trash can. It's really a remarkable to see. Perhaps all those journalism degrees in the family have somehow rubbed off on our youngest child. Any newspaper publishers out there want to scholarship your next circulation manager to college?