Monthly Archives: March 2025

Saints & Sinners & a Bad Professor

So you would think that I would be happy when an exhibition of paintings, texts and objects right in my teaching sweet spot of late Medieval/Renaissance/Reformation/Early Modern Europe comes to my very own city, and yes, I am. Have I taken advantage of said exhibition and brought my students to see things which I regularly refer to? No I have not. The “Saints & Sinners” in my post title refers to the current exhibition at the Peabody Essex Museum, Saints, Sinners, Lovers, and Fools: 300 Years of Flemish Masterworks, and the “Bad Professor” is me. This has happened before: the PEM has a global purview, and several exhibits which have complemented my courses have been up, but this one is really spot on. So when I finally went yesterday afternoon (it opened in December and is up until May), I really enjoyed it, but also felt bad. I am really not good at out-of-the-classroom activities with my students: I never have been and I never had to be. All my colleagues are a lot better. I always used to think, oh well, they’re Americanists, it’s easy for them, but that’s not going to work in this case is it? And I’ve always blamed it on Salem State’s location—about a mile out of downtown Salem. It’s not very far, but it feels far, when you’re trying to cover so much in the limited time of a semester. I walk it often, but to and from is going to eat up an entire class with not much time for viewing in between. The original Salem State (Salem Normal School) was located just behind my house on Broad Street, but in the 1890s there was a big move to a more expansive—now residential—area south. The move made sense at that time, but now I think our university would benefit from a downtown location, or maybe I’m just making excuses! I have occasionally invited my students to join me at exhibitions, and a few have, but never the entire class: my students seem very busy, taking six classes and working two jobs—oops, more excuses. In any case, I’m certainly going to extend that offer to them for this exhibition, because they will in fact see many things which they have heard about before.

Detail  from Jan Wildens, Panoramic View of the City of Antwerp across the River Scheldt, 1630.

Saints and Sinners is a traveling exhibition co-organized by the Denver Art Museum and the Phoebus Foundation in Antwerp, and it is very Antwerp-centric. Once certainly gets a sense of the somewhat wider world that was late medieval and Renaissance Flanders, but Antwerp is the star of the show. But that’s ok, because Antwerp was a very dynamic city in this era–the first non-Italian European entrepot. [a great read for the non-specialist is Michael Pie’s Europe’s Babylon: the Rise and Fall of Antwerp’s Golden Age] The exhibition opens with two galleries exploring intense late medieval piety and the rise of Christian humanism in northern Europe: there wasn’t much discussion in the exhibition text about the latter (or humanism in general, really) but I saw it all around me in both the Christocentric devotion and the subtle critique of the Church, most evident in Anthony Rebukes Archbishop Simon de Sully in Bourges, (c. 1475, by Master of the Prado Adoration). There is a lovely little triptych with a nice interpretive feature.

Circle of Dirk Bouts, The Virgin and Child in an Enclosed Garden , about 1468; Master of the Prado Adoration, Anthony Rebukes Archbishop Simon de Sully in Bourges, about 1475; Artist in the Southern Netherlands, Triptych with Saint Luke Painting the Virgin Mary and Jesus, 1520-30.

Then we were on to more worldly things: shockingly fresh portraits of people who were not saints, still-lives of stuff, a few landscapes, battle scenes, scenes of daily life and satire, cabinets of curiosities. The segue between the spiritual and material worlds was a succession of Adoration of the Magi paintings, focusing on stuff. You can never underestimate the impact of the Renaissance portrait, and I was particularly wowed by the portrait of Joost Aemsz. van der Burch by Jan van Scorel. He looks very (Thomas) Cromwellian to me, and yes, he was a contemporary and also a legal advisor, to Holy Roman Emperor Charles V. I love portraits of the new nobility of merit or robe (rather than the sword) and also of merchants, the other new men of the era. One of the most captivating (double) portraits of this exhibition is the rather pointed portrait of two “tax collectors,” a copy of the famous Quentin Massys painting of the same title. This image is a great teaching tool: I suspect the men were in fact “tax farmers,” collecting taxes for the government for a certain percentage, a practice which emerged before the expansion of professional state fiscal agencies, and their depiction conveys a lot about attitudes towards money, class, occupation, society, and even color. Another double portrait of a married couple was also interesting: they are obviously well-heeled and playing “triktrak,” an early form of backgammon.

Quinten Massys, Tax Collectors, late 1520s, oil on panel, 86 x 71 cm. Liechtenstein Collection, Vaduz/ Vienna.

LOVE this first portrait above: Jan van Sorel, Portrait of Joost Aemsz. van der Burch1530-1; Marinus von Reymerswaele, After Quinten Metskis, Tax Collections, about 1530; Jan Sanders van Hemessen (Hemessen c. 1504-1556 Antwerp), Double Portrait of a Couple Playing Triktrak, 1532.

I was familiar with most of the printed texts in the exhibitions but the key reference works were there: the very important and popular Cosmographia of Petrus Apianus, the pioneering On the Fabric of the Human Body by Andreas Vesalius, and the Nova Reperta engravings by Flemish artist Johannes Stradanus published by Philips Galle. The Nova Reperta (New Intentions of Modern Times) is a portfolio of 19 European “inventions” (many of which are not inventions and certainly not European inventions) is such a testament to European pride (and invention!) at the end of the very dynamic sixteenth century. The frontispiece alone is revealing [I use this great digital site at the Newberry Library in class]: highlighted are 1) the western hemisphere (ok Europe gets credit for that discovery), the printing press (Chinese origin–I don’t see the type here!), distillation (I would call this a Eurasian collaboration), wood from the guiacum tree in Brazil (then thought of as the cure to another American import, syphillis, but soon to be abandoned for mercury), a cannon (ok the Europeans encased Chinese gunpowder), a saddle with stirrups (ancient!), a clock (clock history is complicated but if we’re talking mechanical I think I will give it to Europe).  As the exhibit moved into a surreal and satirical gallery, with a Bosch-esque Hell, and lots of foolery, I was with it, but I walked right through the boring Classical Impact section (not what I’m looking for in Antwerp) into the galleries of wonder and cabinets of curiosity. It was fun to see actual Wunderkammer as well as paintings of wealthy Flemish men and women with their collections of exotic objects and paintings; one can easily grasp how connoisseurship expanded into collecting and it was almost as if these galleries were a mirror of the entire exhibition.

Andreas Vesalius, On the Fabric of the Human Body in Seven Books, 1543; Follower of Hieronymus Bosch, detail from Hell, 1540-5-; Daniel Teniers, Festival of Monkeys, 1633;  Gillis van Tilborgh II, Twelve Gentlemen in an Elegant Interior, about 1661; The Famous Pocupine in London, 1672 @Trustees of the British Museum. After I saw him in the bottom right corner of the Cabinet in the exhibition, I had to put in him here as he is my favorite early modern porcupine.

Virginia Green

Sorry for the delay in posting part II of my spring break road trip: I came back with a nasty flu so re-entry and re-engagement have been stalled. I’m feeling a bit better today and I thought it would make me feel better yet by looking at my photos. From the Eastern Shore, we traveled over the scary Chesapeake Bay bridge/tunnel up to Williamsburg for a few days, then we visited my sisters-in-law in Richmond. It was a real treat to stay in the Williamsburg Inn, and I do like Williamsburg in general even if it has its “history disneyland” qualities, but its highlights on this particular trip were definitely the George Wythe House and the museums. On the way up to Richmond, we stopped at the Berkeley Plantation on the James River, a beautiful and very history-rich site. I always love the capital, and we also visited Monticello up in Charlottesville, which I haven’t been to since I was in college. On the long drive back myself this past Saturday, I stopped on Virginia’s northern neck to visit Menokin, a plantation ruin in the midst of an interpretive restoration. As I drove north from there, I started feeling a bit gray but was thinking mostly of green: as we drove down we saw increasing green and on my ride home I was seeing less. That’s one of the things I like most about my March break trips down south: we won’t see that green in Salem for a while.

Four plantations: Eyre Hall on Virginia’s Eastern Shore, Berkeley and one of its “dependencies,”, Monticello & Menokin.

Eyre Hall, overlooking the Chesapeake on Virginia’s Eastern Shore, is a well-preserved, privately-owned 18th-century plantation whose owners open up its gardens to visitors, so we drove right in and I snuck a photograph of the house. The gardens are supposedly beautiful, but it was a a bit early for blooms. Berkeley has direct connections to the Harrison presidential family and to the Civil War, and is also a site rich in the history and documentation of slavery. There is also a claim to America’s “First Thanksgiving” in 1619, which I’m not going to explore because I’m from Massachusetts. Monticello was of course Thomas Jefferson’s beloved home, and he also has a tie to Berkeley and to the George Wythe house in Williamsburg. The Hemings family is also showcased at Monticello, which was the busiest site we visited by far: it was kind of difficult to take in the house on our packed tour. Menokin, as you can see, is currently a ruin, but its restorers have big plans. I took a lot of notes on interpretation over the week, but I haven’t really sorted them out and I’m not quite up to it, so I’m going to reserve my thoughts on inclusion/exclusion (and Thomas Jefferson!) for later.

Colonial Williamsburg: including the George Whythe (rhymes wth Smith) house, the Capitol and Governor’s Palace, and the museums.

And a view of the University of Virginia’s Lawn from the Rotunda (which I never knew you could spot from Monticello before last week).


Greetings from the Eastern Shore

I’m at the beginning of my traditional spring break trip down south, and currently on Maryland’s Eastern Shore headed for Virginia tomorrow. I don’t know why, but usually when I’m headed south I go the “western” way, and this year I wanted to spend some time on the other side of the Chesapeake Bay. It’s really nice; I’ve missed it! I have my husband with me so I’m a bit constrained: generally I would drive like a mad woman to see every 17th century house in the entire region but husbands need care and feeding so I have to stop at more taverns and coffee shops than I would on my own. Everything slows down with him, which can be a good thing. We stayed in Easton for two nights, after stops in New Castle, Delaware and Chestertown, Maryland on our way down Saturday. Yesterday we were in Oxford and Cambridge and St. Michaels, where we spent a LONG time at the amazing Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum. I feel like I’ve been in the midst of Frederick Douglass/Harriet Tubman territory, because I HAVE: somehow I never realized how important the Chesapeake Bay was to the Underground Railroad before, but everywhere I went emphasized that importance. And in addition to that life lesson, there was just so much beautiful mid-Atlantic architecture! Here’s a brief tour:

Brief stop in New Castle, DE. Such a great town.

Chestertown, MD. So gorgeous!

Further south, Easton has several connections to Frederick Douglass as its the closest larger town to the site of his birth on Tuckahoe Creek and the county seat of Talbot County. One of the reasons I wanted to visit the Eastern Shore was to see the Harriet Tubman “Take my Hand” mural further down in Cambridge, but its artist Michael Rosato had more recently completed a Douglass mural in Easton, so that was our first stop on Sunday morning. Harriet’s mural is personal and compelling, Frederick’s more sweeping, both extremely effective. There’s another Douglass mural in Easton, much more controversial and appearing much more ephemeral, about which people in town seem to have mixed opinions. There’s also a very lively downtown and a bit further out, the oldest Quaker meeting house in the United States, the Third Haven Meeting House.

So much to see in Easton.

On to Oxford and Cambridge, in that order.Very different towns: Oxford is a picture-perfect town of pristine historic houses; Cambridge is a much larger town with obvious economic and preservation challenges but also a lot of pride and energy. Oxford is just so pretty; Cambridge seems very much a center of an Underground Railroad perspective on the Eastern Shore.

a big transition down to Cambridge, but there was Harriet!

The “Take my Hand” mural really has presence! It’s not just her figure—it’s the background. When you’re darting around all these towns bordered by rivers, creeks, or the Bay, you can feel the challenges and the opportunities that all this water represented. Next time, I’m just going to follow the Byway–you can download the app. But this time, we had other places to go: my husband was really looking forward to visiting the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in St. Michaels, so off we went. I’m pretty familiar with St. Michaels, but had never been to the museum before: it did not disappoint! We had to split up though as he’s a real waterman (A GREAT WORD WHICH THEY USE DOWN HERE WHICH WE SHOULD ADOPT IN NEW ENGLAND) himself, and I just can’t spend hours exploring the minutiae of oystering and crabbing. But there was also an entire exhibit on the Bay and the Underground Railroad (as well as the rescued and relocated house of Frederick Douglass’s sister) which was a perfect capstone to our day.

St. Michaels: cute houses and the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum.


A Salem Women’s History Tour

For International Women’s Day today, I thought I would put together a walking tour of Salem women’s history. Of course, every street and every building in Salem has traces of women’s history, most of it hidden from us. I would like to include more than “notable” women on my tour, and I think I’ve busted out that category a bit, but there’s still a lot of work to do and a lot more to learn. I decided to limit the tour to existing buildings, so it definitely skews towards the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. I read revews of Salem walking tours occasionally, mostly because I want some sign of hope that Salem tourists are interested in topics other than the Salem Witch Trials, and that’s the number one complaint: we stood on the sidewalk looking at a parking lot. If they were interested in something other than the Salem Witch Trials, they would no doubt see more buildings and places than parking lots. So my tour is all about buildings, and the women who lived in them. Beware if you want to do it yourself: it’s a long tour—I easily got in my 10,000 steps!

We’re starting on Derby Street, right next to the Custom House, at 1) The Brookhouse Home for Aged Women. Not only is this a McIntire building and an early (1861) example of a privately-established residential home for senior women, but it was also the home of Massachusetts congressman and Secretary of the Navy Benjamin W. Crowninshield, whose wife Mary was quite the Washington socialite: her letters are very revealing about the social scene during the administrations of Presidents Madison and Monroe in general and Dolley Madison in particular. Mary Crowninshield spared no detail, either of drapery or dress trimmings.

Then it’s on to another impressive brick Federal house turned social institution, 2) the Woman’s Friends Society on Hawthorne Boulevard. Founded in 1876 as a residence and employment “bureau” for younger women, the Society acquired its impressive brick double house from Salem’s famed philanthropist Captain John Bertram and his daughter Jennie (Bertram) Emmerton, the mother of Caroline Emmerton of House of the Seven Gables fame. So it is the Emmerton House, and it continues in its original mission. Lots of women’s stories to tell here, as it also became a center for social work, craft eduction, and public health initiatives.

We walk westerly on Charter Street until we come to the so-called 3) Grimshawe House where the famous Peabody sisters lived and where Nathaniel Hawthorne courted his future wife, Sophia. This house was built around 177o and educators Elizabeth and Mary lived here between 1835-1841 with said Sophia, their parents and brother. It has been in decline for most of the second half of the twentieth century, serving as a eerie gray neighbor of the Charter Street cemetery, but last year signs of restoration (and color) appeared.

Now we’re walking towards the McIntire Historic District along Front and Norman Streets and then we’re on Chestnut. There are quite few houses on this street worth noting in relation to women’s history, but I limited myself to 4) Mrs. Parker’s house at #8, 5) Hamilton Hall; 6) the Phillips House, and 7) a Caroline Emmerton-commisioned house. My neighbors just across the street live in the beautiful house occupied by Mary Saltonstall Parker, an author and artist at the turn of the last center. Mrs. Parker loved traditional crafts and antiques and wrote about both in a succession of small books which reflect the Colonial Revival movement, but she was also a “maker” herself and one of her embroidered samplers was on the cover of House Beautiful in 1915. Hamilton Hall is a veritable monument to women’s history, including the work of the Remond family, all those festive fundraising fairs in the nineteenth century, debutante assemblies and the lecture series sponsored by the Ladies Committee in the twentieth. And schools! Dancing schools and “dame schools,” including that of Lucy Stone in the 1880s below. I certainly learned a lot about a variety of women working at the Phillips House this past summer, including ladies of the Phillips family and their staff, but I wanted to spotlight this house at was also the home of Caroline Howard King, the author of one of the most popular (and literary) Salem memoirs, When I lived in Salem. Before the house was the Phillips House, it was actually a genteel boarding house, and Caroline lived there from the 1890s until her death in 1907, I believe. The last house below is Caroline Emmerton’s commissioned copy of the Derby House by architect William Rantoul: it completes the street.

Over on Essex Street, we stop at the venerable 8) David Mason House⁠. Notable for its namesake occupant’s role in Leslie’s Retreat in 1775, more than a century later it was purchased and restored by the prolific author and suffragist Grace Atkinson Oliver, who also served as a member of Salem’s School Board. Across the street is the 9) Quaker Cemetery, where one can reflect on the persecution of Salem’s Quakers in the seventeenth century, including Cassandra Southwick and her daughter Provided. Further down the street towards downtown are 10) the Cabot-Endicott-Low House, childhood home of Salem’s only “dollar princess,” Mary Endicott Chamberlain Carnegie, pictured below just before she presented her stepdaughters to Queen Victoria, of whom she was reportedly a favorite, 11) Caroline Emmerton’s stately house and 12) that of Susan Osgood, another preservationist of sorts, who was the niece of Salem’s first, Joseph Barlow Felt, who was married to Abigail Adams’ niece, also named Abigail. Because the Felts had no children, a lot of her aunt’s things ended up with Susan, including items that Abigail Felt inherited from HER aunt Abigail Adams. Susan donated Abigail’s Inauguration dress (+ slippers!!!) to the Smithsonian Institution, where they reside in the First Ladies exhibit.

Through the Ropes Garden and over to Federal Street and the 13) home of Salem’s first female physician, Dr. Sarah Sherman. She was an amazing woman, who was also elected to the School Board in 1879, the first “school suffrage” election in Salem. Then we will walk towards downtown, cross North Street, and visit two Lynde Street houses, home to two accomplished Marys. First up is the 14) house of Mary Bradford Hagar, who served as the chair of the Salem Ladies Centennial Committee in the 1870s, which organized Salem”s exhibits for the Centennial Exhibition of 1876. Her committee did such a great job that it won national acclaim, and 100 years later in 1975, the Essex Institute mounted a re-exhibition. Next is the 15) house of Mary Harrod Northend, the prolific author of everything “Old Salem” in the early twentieth century. A very Colonial Revival street!

Salem walking tours always stop at the 16) Lyceum Building, now Turner’s Seafood Restaurant, on Church Street as it was supposedly the site of the first Witch Trial victim Bridget Bishop’s orchards, but I would include it on my tour because it was the site of so many meetings of Salem’s Suffrage Society from the 1870s on. I’m cheating a bit here as the present Lyceum building was not the one in which Salem’s Suffragists met: there was an earlier wooden structure on the same site. Like so many sites in central Salem, it is historic in more ways than one. Walking towards the Common, I think I would stop at the Peabody Essex Museum’s 17) Bray House, because it is so cute and also because Salem’s most successful commercial artist, Sarah Symonds, had a workship and retail space there.

I want to include at least one house on Washington Square on my tour, so I think I’m going with the present-day 18) Bertram House. What does this former home for aged men and current assisted living facility for both genders have to do with women’s history? My link is another Endicott and preservationist, Clara Endicott Sears (contemporary and cousin of Mary Endicott), who wrote a charming childhood memoir of life in this house with her grandparents entitled Early personal reminiscences in the old George Peabody mansion in Salem, Massachusetts (1956). The Bertram House overlooks the Common, where a grand historical pageant was present for the Salem Tercentenary in July of 1926: its author was Nellie Stearns Messer, who lived at 19) 15 Oliver Street, pictured just below. By all accounts that I have read and heard, she seems to have been a very active mid-century public historian, before that term was used. In addition to the Tercentenary pageant, she also wrote very substantive histories of the Tabernacle Church and Ropes House. We then walk northward towards Pleasant Street, and the 20) home of one of Salem’s most notable entrepreneurs, Charlotte Fairfield. Charlotte ran a coal company that undercut Salem’s coal cartel in the first decade of the twentieth century, and received lots of attention in the Boston papers for doing so. Independent indeed.

For the last leg of the tour we’re going to swing over to Pickman Street to see the building which houses the 21) Esther C. Mack Industrial School for Girls from the 1890s through the 1920s. Established by a large bequest in the will of its namesake, the school taught what we would call domestic rather than “industrial” skills, mostly sewing and cooking, to young girls and had quite a few collaborations with the Woman’s Friend Society. The photograph below, by Mary Harrod Northend, is of a sewing class. So many progressive women in Salem at this time: I haven’t even touched on the House of the Seven Gables except for showcasing several properties associated with its founder, Caroline Emmerton, or any of the public health and cultural initiatives of this era. This is why I get more than a little frustrated with the continuing almost-exclusive focus on 1692 in this city: it excludes so much history in general, and so much women’s history in particular. But we’ve walked enough for one tour, so I propose crossing the Common, perhaps taking a peak and the 22) birthplace of prominent Salem artist Fidelia Bridges, and then popping into the tavern at the Hawthorne Hotel for a drink, and a toast to the ladies.

Map made by John Northey for the Bicentennial in 1976: as you can see, there’s a lot more land to cover.


What I’m Reading, Spring 2025

I’ve working my way through a stack of books this semester and looking forward to some notable new publications so I thought I’d put together a post to relieve everyone (including myself!) from the Revolutionary focus. As is generally the case with my reading lists, there’s no fiction here. I really, really wish I could read fiction, but I am for the most part an “information reader”: I’m looking for something or want to learn something. I aspire to read for pleasure but I’m not there yet. I’m always teaching and writing about history, so most of what I read is history too, but I have various sideline subjects: architecture, urban planning, folklore, art. I will often have a stack of books by my bed or desk which I will dip into for an hour or two, but for the past year I’ve been trying to break that habit and read through every book I pick up. I’ve been moderately but not completely successful in this aim. I’m also trying to kick my Amazon habit, but have been less successful in that goal! So here’s the list, in no particular order.

Big, sweeping cultural histories of monsters and fairy tales! I’ve been eagerly awaiting Humans. A Monstrous History, which was published just last month. I ordered a desk copy from the publisher, because if it’s as good as I think it will be, I will definitely use it in class. I think I know where Surekha Davies is coming from, because I read her first book on Renaissance ethnography, but she is really stretching it our here—“monsters” are a bit different in the medieval and early modern era. But every civilization has its monsters, and their creation tells us a lot about every civilization. I’ve had Warner’s Once Upon a Time for a while, but finally finished it, as I thought it would be a good companion book for the monsters.

American history always seems much more….tangible! I love books that can explain how just one thing—whether tangible or not, can be “revolutionary” so this book on the Franklin stove is right up my alley: I have a Franklin stove and have written about its companion technology, Rumford roasters! I have not received this book yet (I couldn’t order a desk copy as I don’t teach American history) but I am really looking forward to reading it. I have read No Right to an Honest Living and while it was a bit slow-going for me, I really learned a lot. I wanted to read it as I have thought and written about the Remond family here in Salem so much and I thought this book on Boston African Americans who lived at the same time might give me some insights into their lives, and it has.

Some women’s history (and literature) for Women’s History Month. These are two very accessible, informative, and complementary books: I read straight through them in a weekend. I am a fast reader but I also tend to “gut” books as they taught us in graduate school: you really can’t do that with either of these books. This is the anniversary year of Jane Austen’s birth so I expect we will get more Austen books but I suspect Jane Austen’s Bookshelf will do it for me: I liked this very personal window into her reading world.

A wide range of architecture. I guess I’m going for complementary reads here; I hadn’t planned on that, a pattern is emerging! Now that I think about it, I guess this is how I read. If I read an engaging book, I want more, or I want some kind of response. I’m not sure these that Inessential Colors and A Paradise of Houses will be complementary: I’ve only read the former and the latter is going to be published at the end of this month, I think. I pre-ordered it because its title gave me hope: Salem is just getting uglier and uglier with its new construction and I yearn for a reversal and “rebirth” back to urban integration and intention: do we even have a city planner anymore? Maybe this is not what Podemski is offering, but I’ll see. Works on pre-modern architecture that are not theory seem rare so I snapped Inessential Colors right up: it’s an academic book which explores the beginnings of the use of color in architectural renderings. I’ve been reading a lot of color theory for the next book I’m researching, on saffron, so it hit the sweet spot of architecture + color for me but it might be a bit specialized for most.

Different Forms of Memory. Here are another pair of books of which one (I’m showing two covers here because mine is on the left but I much prefer the right) I’ve read and the other I’m waiting for: I should have subtitled this post “books I planned to read.” I’m really interested in statues and other forms of public commemoration: Fallen Idols was an ok overview but it didn’t quite do it for me. I think I’ll read Erin Thompson’s Smashing Statues: The Rise and Fall of America’s Public Monuments next. I’ve really become interested in Revolutionary remembrance because of my deep dive into the Revolution last year and this year’s commemorations. The Memory of ’76 looks like it’s going to answer a lot of questions I have about this topic, so I wanted to include it here as a reminder—it’s coming out in July.

Lightening (Liquoring) up. I have the occasional habit of posting my Friday cocktail creations to Instagram, and was rewarded with several books on alcohol this past Christmas! Kind of embarassing, but both of these gin books have some great recipes and Austen + alcohol—what could be better? I write quite a bit about the cordial consequences of early modern distillation in my book The Practical Renaissance, but Camper English has a much more accessible and expansive take on this trend: Doctors and Distillers is a really enjoyable book.

Would love some suggestions for engrossing historical fiction and public art marking history!