I’m not a gardener by any means, but I have two gardening books on my shelves ‒ both of them by Muriel Stuart: Fool’s Garden (Jonathan Cape, 1936) with illustrations by Eileen Hawkins, and Gardener’s Nightcap (Jonathan Cape, 1938) with decorations by Philip Gough. They are bedtime reading for the amateur gardener, offering medleys of tips, anecdotes and practical information to dip into before going to sleep. I wouldn’t sell them for the world.
Muriel Stuart (1885–1967) is better known (although still neglected) as a poet: her themes were the Great War, lost and unrequited love, growing old, and sexual politics. I’ve been an admirer of her work for decades. For some reason she gave up publishing poetry in her later years, and turned to writing non-fiction. Except she never really stopped composing verse, and she includes new lyrics in both her gardening books, which add immensely to their charm.
Muriel Stuart (1885–1967) is better known (although still neglected) as a poet: her themes were the Great War, lost and unrequited love, growing old, and sexual politics. I’ve been an admirer of her work for decades. For some reason she gave up publishing poetry in her later years, and turned to writing non-fiction. Except she never really stopped composing verse, and she includes new lyrics in both her gardening books, which add immensely to their charm.
Her gardening books are indexed, although a little eccentrically. I suspect the author was obliged to index her own publications. There are some not very helpful entries such as ‘Why does Your Path Wind’ (filed under ‘W’) and ‘Other Edgings’ (filed under ‘O’).
Yesterday, rooting through some old newspapers, I found two pictures of her I haven’t seen before, dating from 1915 when her poetry first began to attract critical attention. They are from (top) the Sunday Pictorial (12 September 1915) and the Daily Mirror (22 December 1915).
Yesterday, rooting through some old newspapers, I found two pictures of her I haven’t seen before, dating from 1915 when her poetry first began to attract critical attention. They are from (top) the Sunday Pictorial (12 September 1915) and the Daily Mirror (22 December 1915).
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