PETER PAN WEEK Day 3: Tinker or Belle?

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While re-reading Peter Pan, I had in my mind something Mary recently said about Tinker Bell:  she is decidedly low class.  The very fact of her being a tinker condemns her to the bottom rung.  Also, by the time Barrie was writing, the word "tinker" had become shorthand for someone of Irish, Scottish, or Gypsy descent.  Add to that a foul mouth[1. She only opens her mouth to shout "Silly ass!"] and you've got a pretty damning portrait. So where did our culture get its image of Tinker Bell as a coquettish pixie?  From the book, you silly ass!

For every classed description Barrie gives of Tinker Bell, he writes another that contradicts it.  He goes out of his way to establish her delicate femininity:  "Tinker Bell, exquisitely gowned in a skeleton leaf, cut low and square, through which her figure could be seen to the best advantage.  She was slightly inclined to embonpoint."[2. "Embonpoint" is defined as either "plump" or "bosomy," depending on your dictionary.] Later on in the book, he describes her dressing room in terms that confirm her as a lady of refined taste:

"No woman, however large, could have had a more exquisite boudoir ... The couch, as she always called it, was a genuine Queen Mab, with club legs; and she varied the bedspreads according to what fruit-blossom was in season. ... Tink was very contemptuous of the rest of the house ...  and her chamber, though beautiful, looked rather conceited, having the appearance of a nose permanently turned up."

So which is she, crude pot-mender or elegant sylph?  Of course, the answer is that she's both ... and maybe that's the part of the reason she's so compelling as a character?

I'm not blowing anyone's mind when I observe that Peter Pan is ripe with these sorts of contradictions:  Peter is at once a innocent and heartless,  Neverland is both a dream island and a nightmare space (more on that tomorrow), Wendy is equal parts child and mother, etc ...  Pretty much every element of the story contains this sort of discrepancy.  I wonder if that's part of what makes the book so re-readable --  you'll never be able to "get" what Barrie's talking about.[3. One million blog-points goes to whatever reader can explain to me, in precise terms, what exactly Mrs. Darling's "kiss" is.] When I think back on Great works of literature, from the Bible to Beowulf to Alice in Wonderland, I notice similar inconsistencies;  it makes me wonder whether these gaps are part of their greatness.

Years ago, I had the pleasure of sitting down and talking with my favorite musician, Andrew Bird.  At the time, he had just broken from his jazz roots and was starting to write more traditional pop music.  He mentioned having some anxiety over whether his new songs would be too "exhaustible."  I think he was expressing a desire to do in his music what Barrie does in his book:  create a riddle without an answer.

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For those who missed the other "Peter Pan Week" posts:

Day One: Literary Dress Rehearsals

Day Two: The Problem with Peter

Day Four: The Neverland Connundrum

Day Five: Loss and Exclusion in Peter Pan (special guest post!)

Also, you can also read my ham-fisted attempt to connect Peter Pan to The Hunger Games here.

PETER PAN WEEK Day 2: The Problem with Peter

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For years, I have had one simple belief about portraying Peter Pan on film:  it can't be done.  More specifically, it's can't be done by an age-appropriate actor.  There's a general consensus that Peter is supposed to be about six or seven years old.[1. Though Barrie does not specify an age, he does describe Peter as still having all his "baby teeth".  Also, Barrie asked that the Kensington Gardens statue of Peter be fashioned after photographs of a six year-old Michael Llewelyn Davies.]  This is understandably young for such a complex roll, and so the part usually goes to a woman (as it did in Barrie's original stage production) or, in the case of the 2003 movie, to a fourteen year-old from Dylan, Texas.  Critics were quick to condemn the liberties that the 2003 screenplay took with the plot (the ending involves a flying Captain Hook) ... but none of them complained about how grown-up Peter was.  A few even applauded the daring choice to add a little sexy into this stale classic.

This shouldn't be a surprise.  Popular culture has been trying to age-up Peter Pan for decades.  Case in point:  despite the fact that Barrie states "the most entrancing thing about the boy was that he had all his first teeth," most students in my children's literature class still assumed Peter was around eleven or twelve years old.[2. I think another part of this confusion stems from the fact that Peter and Wendy are said to be the same age, and she seems impossibly mature for a six year-old.  My response:  Wendy is playacting romantic maturity, just as she playacts childbirth in her opening scene.]

I understand that filmmakers might feel they have no choice but to cast an older actor, but I still don't think it's right.  Peter as a character is defined by his complete lack of testosterone.  That's the point of the whole friggin' book:  he can't follow Wendy into adulthood.  Asking viewers to accept a Peter Pan with an Adams' apple is like asking them to accept a James Bond with a hillbilly accent[3. Actually, I'd totally watch something called "Jimmy-James Bond".] -- changing the character changes the character.

All this takes me back to loving the (traditional) non-traditional casting of a woman for the roll of Peter Pan.   In some essential way, Mary Martin and Sandy Duncan remain truer to the character of Peter Pan than any male actor with even one adult tooth in his head -- they may be "grown up," but they will never be men.

At least that's what I thought before this kid came around:

Last August, I had the pleasure of seeing a Ben Harrison stage production of Peter Pan that proved me wrong.  The show cast an actor named Nate Fallows who seemed to "get" just how young Peter Pan needed to be.[4. The show is still touring the country, for those interested. It's probably worth noting that the flying scenes made me cry.]  Every gesture and word was infused with an animal recklessness that disallowed any sort of heartthrobby nonsense.  Similarly, the entire production was about how young and violent he was.  Even Michael (played by an actor half his age) felt wise and mature next to this Peter.  It was the first adaptation I had ever seen that felt like the book I so loved.

While watching the show, I kept imagining what the production would have been like without this deliberate focus on Peter's youngness:  it wouldn't have been a show worth watching.  It would have felt no different than watching the (tame) musical, or the (boring) Disney cartoon, or the (sexed-up) 2003 adaptation -- just a string of fanciful set-pieces and sentimental Edwardiana.  Peter would not approve.

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For those who missed the other "Peter Pan Week" posts:

Day One: Literary Dress Rehearsals

Day Three: Tink or Belle?

Day Four: The Neverland Connundrum

Day Five: Loss and Exclusion in Peter Pan (special guest post!)

Also, you can also read my ham-fisted attempt to connect Peter Pan to The Hunger Games here.

PETER PAN WEEK Day 1: Literary Dress Rehearsals

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As promised, I'm devoting this entire week to J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan.  Today I'd like to discuss the long path leading up to the creation of this iconic character. Thanks to Johnny Depp, most people know that Peter Pan was a 1904 stage play before it was a novel, but what Finding Neverland fails to mention is that the character of Peter Pan actually goes back even further -- to a book called  The Little White Bird.  Published in 1902, The Little White Bird was an adult novel that featured an unaging boy named Peter Pan who lived among birds in the middle of Kensington Gardens.

It would be a stretch to call this earlier book a prequel.  Yes, the kid's name is Peter Pan, and, yes, he refuses to grow up, but that's where the similarities end.  This proto-Peter lacks the cockiness and capricious violence of his later incarnation.   When he meets a girl, he asks to marry her.  When he's granted a wish by the fairy queen, he asks to return to his mother.  I simply cannot accept that this pansy would turn into the pirate-murdering, rooster-crowing, teeth-gnashing Peter Pan that I know and love.[1. there is a whole separate conversation to be had about how the "rules" of Kensington Gardens" don't work with the "rules" of Neverland -- more  evidence that the two books were not meant to exist in the same universe.]

I don't think Barrie intended for his readers to see the characters as contiguous.  Rather, I think he considered Kensington Peter to be a sort of "dress rehearsal" -- one of many incarnations necessary for the creation of his final character.  Even the stage play, which much more closely resembles the 1911 novel, lacks much of the depth of character and theme found in the later book.  Scholar Jack Zipes agrees in his introduction to a Penguin edition of Peter Pan:

"There is a sense that [Barrie] wanted to provide definitive closure to the story with the publication of the prose novel in 1911 ... The 'definitive' novel is the most complicated and sophisticated of all the versions of Peter Pan."

As someone who has read Peter Pan a number of times, I think the work shows.  The 1911 edition, while simple in language, is unbelievably rich in theme.[2. My wife has observed that she can't read the book with a pen in her hand because she'll compulsively underline every sentence -- they're all that good.]  The idea that something this good can only be got after countless revisions thrills me as a reader, but the writer in me trembles.  There is something terrifying in the possibility that a great character may take several passes to get right -- that long after publication a story might still bear revision.  When do you stop revisiting past work?  Unless you're George Lucas, the answer to this question might be "never."

Other Examples of Literary Dress Rehearsals

In the interest of expanding the conversation, I tried to think of some other books that functioned as literary dress rehearsals.  I'm sure there are a lot more out there, but here's what came to mind:

Huckleberry Finn - More than once during the latest Huck Finn Debacle, I had to remind myself that  Huck started out in 1876 as a supporting character in Tom Sawyer. It wasn't until eight years later that he got his due in Huck Finn.

 

Sara Crewe - Frances Hodgson Burnett's wonderful heroine first found life in a stripped-down serial novel in 1888.   Fourteen years later, she appeared in a stage adaptation titled A Little Un-Fairy Princess.  It was only after that that Burnett revised A Little Princess to create the Sara we know today.

 

Gollum -  In many ways, The Hobbit is a functional prequel to The Lord of the Rings.  However, I've always felt there was a serious disconnect in the two characterizations of Gollum.[3. This is closely related to the differing characterization of "the ring," which too conveniently transforms from a straightforward invisibility-device to an all-powerful MacGuffin .] His moral journey in the later books belies the riddle-asking monster-in-the-dark characterization from the earlier volume.

 

The Addams Family - Strictly speaking, these aren't "literary" characters, but I often think about the fact that Charles Addams drew the members of his "Addams Family" for years before thinking to give them names.  It wasn't until the 1964 television show that the family really hit pop culture.  Looking back on Addams' older cartoons, you can see how over time he was able to tweak and refine his family into the distinct characters we know today.

Bod Owens - A more contemporary example of character dress-rehearsal might be Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book. I know a central chapter from the novel ("The Witch's Headstone") was first published as a standalone short story, but I have not read the original version.  I'm curious to know whether the characterization of Bod Owens changed in any significant ways -- anyone out there have a copy?

So those are a few literary dress rehearsals that I can think of.  I have this nagging feeling that I'm missing some big examples ... feel free to toss in others in the comments.

Tomorrow, check in to learn why I long believed Peter Pan to be an unfilmable story . . . and read about the London stage production that proved me wrong.

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For those who missed the other "Peter Pan Week" posts:

Day Two: The Problem with Peter

Day Three: Tink or Belle?

Day Four: The Neverland Connundrum

Day Five: Loss and Exclusion in Peter Pan (special guest post!)

Also, you can also read my ham-fisted attempt to connect Peter Pan to The Hunger Games here.

And Another Thing!

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Mark Twain has a story about his bruising encounter with newsman Horace Greely that ends with: "I could have made a very neat retort but didn't, for I was flurried and didn't think of it till I was downstairs." I often feel that way about The Scop -- no sooner do I hit "publish" then I discover something that should have been added to the piece.  Well, today's post is an attempt to fix that problem.  I'm revisiting a few subjects that deserve followup:

Don't Shoot the Messenger

In response to my post discussing the "betrayal" of discovering Christian imagery in the Narnia books, blogger KBryna pointed out how Lewis perpetrates an even greater deception:  tricking readers into thinking Turkish Delight is delicious.  This is perceptive and true.  I remember when my friend Laurel took a trip to Scotland and purchased a very expensive box of handmade Turkish Delight.  When I learned of this, I made her promise not to try a piece until she got home.  Why?  Because I'm a sadist and I wanted to watch her suffer.  Here's how it went down:

E-Books Round One: Why I'm Not Worried

Shortly after posting this piece, Phil Nel sent out a link to an article titled "E-Readers and the Future of Picture Books" by Jerry Griswold[1. 1. Jerry and Phil are both people I admire for their ability to make children's literature scholarship relevant to the layman reader].  Reading the article was reassuring:  if Jerry Griswold isn't worried about electronic picture books, then neither am I!

 

E-Books Round Two: Run For Your Lives!

Earlier in the week, I googled "e-book piracy."  The first image was this Kindle Pirate I drew for my post.  That's because it had been used in a C-Net article titled "Kindle E-book Piracy Accelerates."  The article is great, and it goes a long way toward answering some of the questions I brought up.  My new dilemma:  this doodle, which took me about two minutes to draw, will probably reach a wider audience than anything else I create for the rest of my life.  (Sigh.)

MFA Writing Programs: Lego vs. Construx

This post was inspired by a Cathy Day article discussing a critical flaw in writing MFA programs.  Since publishing her article, Day has found herself caught up in a lot of controversy.  Also, my 7 year-old cousin Asher took exception to my dismissal of Lego and sent along this thoughtful response:

Nice try, kid -- but drawing a cool picture doesn't make you any less WRONG about the superiority of Construx.

Huckleberry Finn and Literary Alteration

You should be sitting down for this last one.  At lunch the other day, my friend Chandra gave me the academic term for what Alan Gribben did to Huck Finn: "dynamic equivalence intralingual translation."[2. 2. I found an article online that breaks the term down: "Dynamic equivalence is based on the principle of equivalent effect, i.e. that the relationship between receiver and message should aim at being the same as that between the original receivers and the SL message" ... "intralingual translation" is simply defined as "rewording."]  I defy you not to drop that sucker into your next dinner party conversation.

While I'm meta-blogging, I also want to give a special thanks to sites that have shined a light on The Scop: A Fuse #8 Production, Cockeyed Caravan, 100 Scope Notes, Fierce & Nerdy, Mr. Schu Reads, and the SDSU Children's Literature Blog to name a few.  These are all fantastic blogs that you should drop everything and visit right now!

Announcing PETER PAN Week!

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Tonight in our children's literature class, I'll be leading a discussion on J.M. Barrie's Peter and Wendy.  In undergrad, this replaced Through the Looking Glass as my very favorite novel.  I have read it at least a dozen times since then, and my love for the book has only grown.  When I started brainstorming ideas for Peter Pan posts, I realized there were too many great topics to pick from.  So, instead I'm announcing that next week will be "Peter Pan Week" (insert crowing sound).  Each day, I'll be doing a post on a different aspect of the book.  If there's any specific topic you want to see discussed, let me know in the comments.  Until then, happy reading!

For any interested parties, feel free to check out posts from previous books in the course:

Little Goody Two-Shoes (published) by John Newbery

The Coral Island by R.M. Ballantyne

A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett

And I've posted the full reading list here.

"The Camel" or "How My Friends Tried To Ruin My Writing Career"

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About a week ago, I got an email from my publisher requesting an author headshot.  As you might imagine, I immediately began to freak out.  I have been dreading the author photo for months now.  First off, I'm not even sure whether I approve of the concept.  As a reader, I sort of hate knowing the face behind the story.  Secondly, cameras and I don't really get along.  The hilariously-deadpan photo from my "About Me" section?  That was me trying to look approachable.  And now I had to take a photo that would live on the back of Peter Nimble forever!  In desperation, I reached to friends via Twitter and Facebook asking for tips and advice.  Here's what I got:

A)  "Laura F." suggested I put my hand under my chin so people know I have a heavy brain.

B)  When I asked my agent what to do, he mentioned how much he loved J.R.R. Tolkein's author photo and wondered whether I could do something like that.

C)  "Go Sleeveless!" was the advice from my friend Kyle

D)  Matt B. suggested I try and mix in a little Oscar Wilde.

E)  John E. recommended I show off some of my other skills by flashing a yo-yo[1. Fact: I used to be a professional yo-yo demonstrator]

F)  Several friends warned me against holding any books, so I decided to use them to prop up my elbow in the hopes it might further underline the heaviness of my brain (see "A")

G)  Knowing my love for Shel Silverstein, "Rob O." wondered whether I should grow a beard like my icon.

H)  My wife, not wanting to waste her weekend, recommended I hire Olan Mills to take the photo.

Put them all together and here's the result:

It might be hard to see behind the glasses, but I also threw in a little "blue steel" to win over moms and lady-librarians.  Overall, I'd say it looks pretty damn good ... glad to know my friends are looking out for me.[2. The title of this post comes from the old maxim that a camel is "a horse designed by committee"]

What oft was OMG WHERE'S MY PEN?!

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Yesterday, I talked briefly about the joy of finding how books from my past have subconsciously influenced my work.  Today, I'd like to discuss the opposite discovery:  when you read something new that puts words to your most secret thoughts.  Those are the moments when I leap from my chair and scramble for a pen because what I've just read must be written down!  English poet Alexander Pope describes this "aha!" moment perfectly:

True wit is nature to advantage dressed
What oft was thought but ne'er so well expressed.

So many great authors have inspired this feeling in me.  Here are a few such "ne'er so well expressed" observations that have really blown me away:

MOBY DICK - Herman Melville

"... truly to enjoy bodily warmth, some small part of you must be cold, for there is no quality in this world that is not what it is merely by contrast. Nothing exists in itself. If you flatter yourself that you are all over comfortable, and have been so a long time, then you cannot be said to be comfortable any more."

I have often argued this same point among friends and family:  that the secret to being cozy lies in a part of you being cold;  the moment a person is warm all over, they are too warm.  However much I may have felt this in life, I could never have said it so well as Melville.


The Man Who Was Thursday - G.K. Chesterton

"Moderate strength is shown in violence, supreme strength is shown in levity."

Chesterton is a master of pith.  Case in point: before having really read any Dickens, I was still able to read his book Charles Dickens: the last of the Great Men and love every word -- that takes a special type of writer.  (If you like the above line, I'd recommend you check out the ChestertonQuote Twitter feed.)


Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets - J.K. Rowling

Describing the color of polyjuice potion:

"Both glasses hissed and frothed: Goyle's turned the khaki color of a booger."

A small observation, but profound nonetheless.



Foundling - D. M. Cornish

This next one is unusual because it's not actually from a book.  Rather, it's from the jacket copy of D.M. Cornish's "Foundling" trilogy.  Still, it puts words to something I've felt for a long time:

"Convinced as a child that writers had a key to unlock other worlds and convinced as a young man that there were ways to be fantastical without conforming to the generally accepted notions of fantasy ..."[1. emphasis mine]


These are but a few writers who reached into my brain and scooped out (what I had thought to be) original thoughts.  Ordinarily this would make me feel violated or robbed, but these authors managed to express the thought so perfectly that I can't help but feel like I've just discovered a conspirator ... or a new friend.

FOUNDLING Quote #1

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I learned a new definition for "Fiasco:" "Rossamund had seen had seen them before. In them he knew women kept their rouges, blushes and balms: the tools of beauty ... even a young lad like himself could not help but be amazed by the simple yet profound transformation. He did not think a little rosying of the cheeks and lips and whitening of the nose could be so flattering."

- D. M. Cornish Foundling, ch. 13

On the Shoulders of A LITTLE PRINCESS

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In last week's children's literature class, Mary taught Frances Hodgson Burnett's A Little Princess.  This meant I got to kick back and just enjoy re-reading the book.  While doing do, I came across a passage in which Sara describes the view from her attic window:

"You can see all sorts of things you can't see downstairs," she said ... "Chimneys—quite close to us—with smoke curling up in wreaths and clouds and going up into the sky—and sparrows hopping about and talking to each other just as if they were people—and other attic windows where heads may pop out any minute and you can wonder who they belong to. And it all feels as high up—as if it was another world." 

The subject comes up again a few chapters later:

When the square suddenly seemed to begin to glow in an enchanted way and look wonderful in spite of its sooty trees and railings, Sara knew something was going on in the sky. ... she invariably stole away and crept up the flights of stairs, and, climbing on the old table, got her head and body as far out of the window as possible. When she had accomplished this, she always drew a long breath and looked all round her. It used to seem as if she had all the sky and the world to herself. 

These passages stood out to me because I am in the middle of writing a book that is largely "about" rooftops, and it includes a few observations very similar to the ones above.  While I did not deliberately set out to copy pay homage to A Little Princess, I am pretty sure I couldn't have written my rooftop story if I hadn't of first read them in Burnett when I was a child.  (I can't help but wonder if PL Travers felt the same way?)

This happens to me a lot.  While revising Peter Nimble & his Fantastic Eyes, I was continually rediscovering how this or that moment/character/theme/word was actually inspired by something I had read long ago.  This seems right to me.  Some writers make a big deal out of creating from nothing;  I, for one, am more comforted by the thought that I create from the things that live within me  -- things put there by other, greater minds.  On the shoulders of giants, and such.  I love realizing how forgotten books are still unconsciously informing me, and I hope to continue making such discoveries for as long as I write.

A Tale of Two Bookstores ...

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This week Borders booksellers filed for bankrupcy.  This is a really sad thing, but it has been coming for a while now.  I started to suspect something was wrong at the company about a year ago.  It happened one afternoon when I simply needed to track down a copy of Charles Dickens' Martin Chuzzlewit.  So I hopped in my car and drove to nearest Borders. Back then, I generally preferred Borders to Barnes & Noble because the staff was a) more knowledgeable and b) less likely to try and sell me a Nook.  Anyway, when I walked into the store, here's what I found:

That's right; they had fifteen different Dickens titles, but no Martin Chuzzlewit.  So I got back in my car and headed on over to Barnes & Noble:

Out of just three Dickens books, one was Martin Chuzzlewit. What's the moral of the story?  Barnes & Noble is staffed by secret mind readers.

Don't feel bad, Borders.  No one can compete with that.

 

The (Book) Doctor is In!

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A special treat for readers today: my good friend Meredith Sommers has written a guest post for The Scop!  I met Meredith when she was getting her MLIS in preservation;  she now works as a librarian and archivist at Milligan College.  Behold her book-fixing powers:

Pretty neat, eh?  I asked Meredith to share some advice on the care and feeding of books, here's what she came back with ...

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First off, thanks to Jonathan for the chance to guest post.   I'm excited to have the opportunity to think about the care of books, which occupies a surprisingly small portion of my life these days.   With the exception of unique archival items, our school's collection is selected for use.   When our books get old and ratty, we buy new ones (because most of them can be replaced less expensively than they can be repaired).   I'm finding lately that this mentality is bleeding into my personal life;  my home library is greatly shrunken from its heyday, and I'm much less emotionally attached to most of my books than I once was[1. 1. Last week, the book I was reading was soaked when a pipe burst, and I tossed it into the garbage without a second thought because I could get another copy so much more easily than I could return the soaked one to a readable state].

That said, there are some books worth keeping forever and handing down.  And the good news is, books are sturdy.  If they're made of quality materials (read: not mass-market paperbacks printed on acidic paper), and given a modicum of care, they'll last a really long time.  Below are some basic guidelines for keeping your books safe:

Environment - Books are comfortable when people are comfortable.   They'll do best around 70 degrees F, and 30-50% relative humidity.  The key, though, is consistency.  Don't put your treasures in the uninsulated attic where the temperature fluctuates wildly with the seasons, or the damp basement.  Keep them away from flood-prone areas (basement, again).  Built-in bookcases flanking the fireplace?  Not for the heirlooms.  Light causes fading.

Storage - Books should be on the shelf, standing straight up.  Leaning stresses the spine, and eventually leaves them mangled.  Keep the shelf full or use a bookend, but don't pack it so tightly that it's a struggle to remove a volume.  If you have to pack books away, lay them flat in the box or rest them on their spines. Resting on the foreedge stresses the hinges and can pull the textblock out of the case.  And if you have to put that box in the basement (it happens), keep it up high and use a plastic bin with a snap-on lid for extra protection.

Use - Be gentle.  Wash your hands.  Finger oil and dirt can build up remarkably.  To remove the book from the shelf, push in the volumes to either side so that you can grasp the middle of the spine (rather than using one finger on the top of the spine to tip it out).  Use a paper bookmark rather than a thicker metal or leather one to avoid distending the pages (similarly, no dog-earing, and no paper clips – which have the added benefit of rust).  No Post-its;  the adhesive leaves a residue.  If you have to annotate, use pencil.  Support the covers;  don't force the book to open flat.  Never lay it open and face-down.   Keep away from food or drink.

On the subject of repairs, it's hard for me to recommend DIY jobs.  So many at-home interventions go so badly.  If it's really beloved, call a conservator.  But a few tips, for things worth fixing, but not worth bringing in the big guns:

Water - Get it dried out.   Stand the book on its end with the pages fanned out and keep air circulating and the lights on.  Stick paper towels in between every 10 pages or so, and change the towels frequently.  The key is to avoid mold, which can set in very, very quickly.  The pages will buckle, but it'll still be readable.

Tears - Never, ever use Scotch tape.  Give it 20 years, and it'll be cracked and brittle and yellow -- as will the paper underneath.  Filmoplast is lovely (but pricey), and a roll will probably last the rest of your life.  Line the paper up and use small pieces of tape to match the tear's contours.  Fold the tape over the edge of the page, and repeat up the back of the tear.

Loose Hinges - Often the result of storing a book on its fore-edge.  The text block comes apart, just a little, from the cover.  It can be reattached with a bit of acid-free glue (PVA, polyvinyl acetate is good. Check the scrapbook supplies section of Michael's or similar) applied with a very thin knitting needle[2. 2. University of Illinois - Urbana-Champain has a great tutorial].

Torn spine - Sorry.  I have no suggestions beyond professional help.  Please, though, no duct tape.

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Me again.  If you want to see more of Meredith's book repair wizardry, click here.  She also sent along the following links for (much) more information on the subject:

The Library of Congress

American Institute for Conservation's Caring for Your Treasures

Northeast Document Conservation Center's preservation leaflets

THE CUNNING MAN Quote #1

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From Chapter Six: "Then [the doctor] proceeded to tell my parents what he had discovered, while I was still in the room, standing by my mother's chair. I was, he said, 'delicate' and must be treated accordingly ... this was of utmost importance to my future, because whoever declares a child to be 'delicate' thereby crowns and anoints a tyrant."

- Robertson Davies, The Cunning Man