Latest Addition To The Spill Library: Ernst’s In A Word Illustrated By James Thurber
Back in June, I posted a piece about coming across the only online image of a dust-jacketed copy of the (UK) Hamish Hamilton edition of Margaret Ernst’s 1939 In A Word (the book is generously illustrated with Thurber drawings). The online image showed only the front cover. In that post I expressed a desire to one day see the rest of the jacket (because it was so different from the US edition….see below). Well, thanks to my wife, that one dust-jacketed online copy recently showed up, in person, here at Spill headquarters.
I really prefer the UK cover design, especially the spine, over the US cover. It’s bolder, freer…more fun. More Thurber.
— Left: the UK spine
[I apologize for the reflection on these photos. The clear wrap seems too fragile to remove… maybe I’ll give it a go some day]Front and back UK cover:
Left below: the UK rear flap. Below right: the US cover and spine.
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Robert Andrew Parker, Artist/Illustrator, Has Died at Age 96
The Spill has learned via illustrator, Joe Ciardiello‘s FB page that the artist/illustrator, Robert Andrew Parker has passed away at age 96.
Mr. Parker’s work appeared in The New Yorker 15 times, between March 1, 1993 and May 20, 2002. He was married to Judy Mellecker Parker, a long-time New Yorker staffer and contributor. She passed away in August of this year.
For Mr. Parker’s first New Yorker appearance, he illustrated a number of musicians in the Goings On About Town section of that issue (shown below).
More:
A short video, “Robert A. Parker — A Is For Artist”
Gil Roth’s 2018 Virtual Memories interview with Parker.
A Spill piece that appeared in June about three New Yorker cartoonists visiting a Parker exhibit in Connecticut.
When I was moving to Connecticut about twenty years ago, a mutual friend told me to look up Bob Parker, which I did as soon as we got here. I didn’t know another soul. He and Judy were welcoming and generous to us and we saw each other regularly. Then Bob and I and several other friends started having breakfast together. It was decided that we would call ourselves the Sharon Athletic Club. We met every Thursday at eight at the same eatery until it closed down, then moved on to the next one. Our conversations were rambling but inevitably amusing and sometimes smart. Our memories were unreliable, which caused us to spend a lot of time trying to remember who was in that movie with what’s his name. When Bob finally stopped driving, which caused everyone to breathe a sigh of relief, I sometimes gave him a lift. This morning I drove straight there and back, which is how it will be from now on. I miss him.