Journey from the North, Volume 1: Autobiography of Storm Jameson (Bloomsbury Reader)

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Pages Published online: 14 Nov Additional information Disclosure statement No potential conflict of interest was reported by the authors. Article Metrics Views. Article metrics information Disclaimer for citing articles. Login options Log in. Username Password Forgot password? Shibboleth OpenAthens. Huxley died in a nursing home at age 89 on 10 January at Tetbury in Gloucestershire, England. Edited: Jan 12, , pm. She was born into the Church of Ireland and many of her novels deal with the fading of the Protestant Anglo-Irish ascendancy in the 20th century. Edited: Jan 14, , pm.

Called "a forgotten American literary treasure" by The New Yorker magazine, she was the author of 52 books and more than articles and stories. Her writings in the 20th century played a significant role in opening up Asia to the west. One of six children of a dry goods salesman and a free-thinking mother, Emily Hahn was born in St.

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Louis Missouri on January 14, Nicknamed "Mickey", she moved with her family to Chicago, Illinois when she was In her memoir No Hurry to Get Home , she describes how being prevented from taking a chemistry class in which she was interested caused her to switch her course of study from English to Engineering at the University of Wisconsin—Madison.

In she was the first women to receive a degree there in Mining Engineering—despite the coolness of the administration and most of her male classmates. It was a testament to her intelligence and persistence that her lab partner grudgingly admitted, "you ain't so dumb!

Later she traveled to the Belgian Congo, where she worked for the Red Cross, and lived with a pygmy tribe for two years, before crossing Central Africa alone on foot.

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Her years in Shanghai, China from to the Japanese invasion of Hong Kong in were the most tumultuous of her life. There she became involved with prominent Shanghai figures, such as the wealthy Sir Victor Sassoon, and was in the habit of taking her pet gibbon, Mr. Mills, with her to dinner parties, dressed in a diaper and a minute dinner jacket. Hahn frequently visited Sinmay's house, which was highly unconventional for a Western woman in the s. The Treaty of the Bogue was in full effect, and Shanghai was a city divided by Chinese and Westerners at the time.

Sinmay introduced her to the practice of smoking opium, to which she became addicted. She later wrote, "Though I had always wanted to be an opium addict, I can't claim that as the reason I went to China.

According to a December Time article, Hahn "decided that she needed the steadying influence of a baby, but doubted if she could have one. Fortunately for her, the Japanese respected Boxer's record of wily diplomacy. As Hahn recounted in her book China to Me , she was forced to give Japanese officials English lessons in return for food, and once slapped the Japanese Chief of Intelligence in the face.

He came back to see her the day before she was repatriated in and slapped her back. China to Me was an instant hit with the public. According to Roger Angell of The New Yorker, Hahn "was, in truth, something rare: a woman deeply, almost domestically, at home in the world. Driven by curiosity and energy, she went there and did that, and then wrote about it without fuss. They settled in Dorset, England at "Conygar", the acre , m2 estate Boxer had inherited, and in had a second daughter, Amanda Boxer now a stage and television actress in London. Finding family life too constraining, however, in Hahn took an apartment in New York City, and visited her husband and children from time to time in England.

Lawrence and Mabel Dodge Luhan. According to biographer Ken Cuthbertson, while her books were favorably reviewed, "her versatility, which enabled her to write authoritatively on almost any subject, befuddled her publishers who seemed at a loss as to how to promote or market an Emily Hahn book.

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She did not fit into any of the usual categories" because she "moved effortlessly Hahn reportedly went into her office at The New Yorker daily, until just a few months before she died on February 18, at the age of 92, following complications from surgery for a shattered femur. Chances are that when she took you to the zoo, she didn't start whooping passionately at the top her lungs as you passed the gibbon cage.

Sadly for you It looks back at the life and loves of Hahn in the Shanghai of the s. She sounds fabulous, Cate! Jan 15, , am. She's my kind of lady, Tui. Were you able to get the edition published by Virago Travellers? Jan 15, , pm. Lucky mE!! I didn't realize what a treasure I have. And she's beautiful too. I never heard of Emily Hahn, but I'll be looking for her work now. What a woman! Jan 16, , am. Edited: Jan 19, , pm.

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Her father was the M. Bridget spent her early years commuting between London - when Parliament was sitting, and South Kerry, during Parliament recess. Thereafter, she was based in London. In she went to Sacred Heart, Roehampton, which she attended for nine years before going on to Oxford in She graduated in and three years later, her first novel, The Wild Geese appeared. In the same year she collaborated on the script for Gaslight Thus began her long career as a film script writer. Boland is best remembered for the war drama The Prisoner Bridget Boland also wrote plays.

Her other two novels are Portrait of a Lady in Love and Caterina Bridget Boland lived in Hampshire until her death. Jan 20, , pm. Edited: Jan 21, , pm. On this day in , year-old novelist Vita Sackville-West wrote an impassioned love letter to year-old novelist Virginia Woolf. Vita was a distinguished English writer, had been married for more than a decade, loved her husband, and was attracted to other women.

All of these things applied to Virginia Woolf as well. The two women had met through the Bloomsbury Group of London, which gathered to discuss things like philosophy, literature, and art.

Their romance started cautiously, but by the time Vita composed this letter four years after they'd met, she was deeply smitten, languishing and lovesick. She was on a bumpy train ride from Milan to Trieste 85 years ago today when she wrote: "I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your un-dumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn't even feel it. And yet I believe you'll be sensible of a little gap.

But you'd clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it would lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is just really a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become.

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I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things. Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan't make you love me any the more by giving myself away like this — But oh my dear, I can't be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don't love.

I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defences. And I don't really resent it. However I won't bore you with any more. We have re-started, and the train is shaky again. I shall have to write at the stations — which are fortunately many across the Lombard plain. The waterfalls in Switzerland were frozen into solid iridescent curtains of ice, hanging over the rock; so lovely.

And Italy all blanketed in snow. We're going to start again. I shall have to wait till Trieste tomorrow morning. Please forgive me for writing such a miserable letter. I went to bed last night as black as a sweep.

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The awful dreariness of Westphalia makes it worse: factory towns, mounds of slag, flat country, and some patches of dirty snow. Why aren't you with me? Oh, why? I do want you so frightfully. I want more than ever to travel with you; it seems to me now the height of my desire, and I get into despair wondering how it can ever be realised.

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Can it, do you think? Oh my lovely Virginia, it is dreadful how I miss you, and everything that everybody says seems flat and stupid. I do hope more and more that you won't go to America, I am sure it would be too tiring for you, and anyway I am sure you wouldn't like it. So we bundle along over Germany, and very dull it is — Surely I haven't lost my zest for travel?