Before Thomas Edison, light and fire were thought to be one and the same. Turns out, they were separate things altogether. This book takes a similar relationship, that of time and place, and shows how they, too, were once inseparable. Before the railroads necessitated the creation of Standard Time zones in 1883, time keeping was a local affair. Small towns set their own pace according to the rising and setting of the sun. Our sudden interconnectedness, both physically and through inventions like the telegraph, changed our concept of time and place forever. Here, historic preservationist Howard Mansfield looks at a few of the clocks we carry. He explores time in a once common, now-vanished dry-goods store; in the invention of Continuous Vaudeville; in an old mill family defending water rights; in an 1880s Broadway hit that is still performed annually; and in the lingering effects of a bloody war that one historian calls the fi rst American Revolution a war many Americans don t even know happened.
Howard Mansfield sifts through the commonplace and the forgotten to discover stories that tell us about ourselves and our place in the world. He writes about history, architecture, and preservation.
He is the author of thirteen books, including In the Memory House, of which The Hungry Mind Review said, “Now and then an idea suddenly bursts into flame, as if by spontaneous combustion. One instance is the recent explosion of American books about the idea of place… But the best of them, the deepest, the widest-ranging, the most provocative and eloquent is Howard Mansfield’s In the Memory House.”
Among his other books are Turn & Jump, The Bones of the Earth and The Same Ax, Twice, which The New York Times said was “filled with insight and eloquence. A memorable, readable, brilliant book on an important subject. It is a book filled with quotable wisdom.”
“Howard Mansfield has never written an uninteresting or dull sentence. All of his books are emotionally and intellectually nourishing,” said the writer and critic Guy Davenport. “He is something like a cultural psychologist along with being a first-class cultural historian. He is humane, witty, bright-minded, and rigorously intelligent. His deep subject is Time: how we deal with it and how it deals with us.”
His most recent book, Chasing Eden: A Book of Seekers, is about Americans seeking their Promised Land, their utopia out on the horizon — which by definition, is ever receding before us.
In Chasing Eden we meet a gathering of Americans – the Shakers in the twilight of their utopia; the Wampanoags confronting the Pilgrims; the God-besotted landscape painters who taught Americans that in wilderness was Eden; and 40,000 Africans newly freed from slavery granted 40 acres and a mule – only to be swiftly dispossessed. These and other seekers were on the road to find out, all united by their longing to find in America “a revolution of the spirit.”
His forthcoming book, I Will Tell No War Stories, is a little different for Mansfield.
Shortly before his father died, he was cleaning out the old family home when he found a small, folded set of pages that had sat in a drawer for 65 years. It was a short journal of the bombing missions he had flown. He had no idea he’d kept this record. Airmen were forbidden to keep diaries.
He quickly read through it, drank it down in a gulp. Some of the missions he flew were harrowing, marked by attacking fighters, anti-aircraft cannon blowing holes in his plane, and wounding crewmen. They had limped back to England flying on three of the four engines with another engine threatening to quit. He’d seen bombers blown out of the sky, exploding into nothing – ten men, eighteen tons of aluminum with tons more of high explosives and fuel: Just gone. And they had to fly on.
His father, like most men of his generation, refused to talk about the war.
I Will Tell No War Stories is about undoing the forgetting in Mansfield's family and in a society that has hidden the horrors and cataclysm of a world at war. Some part of that forgetting was necessary for the veterans, otherwise how could they come home, how could they find peace?
I Will Tell No War Stories is, finally, about learning to live with history, a theme he has explored in some of my earlier books like In the Memory House and The Same Ax, Twice.
Mansfield has contributed to The New York Times, American Heritage, The Washington Post, Historic Preservation, The Threepenny Review, Yankee and other publications.
This book starts in a New England museum and ends in a New England graveyard. Howard Mansfield covers a lot of ground on the pages in-between, each essay somehow tied to the ideas of time and place. As is the case with The Same Ax, Twice, Mansfield’s writing is down-to-earth without ever falling into folksy cliché. I have his latest book, Chasing Eden, sitting on the desk in front of me. I can’t wait to start reading it, which I will do as soon as I post this review and refill my coffee mug.
I expected a better study of how the sense of time we carry has changed over the years. In several spots I paused and wondered just how the author was making the connection between what he promised with what he was telling me. The five main "anecdotes" are often interesting in themselves -- but I think the author was forcing the issue and assuming we would always experience what he wanted us to feel.
Selected for discussion at Tuesday Academy, Howard, a local author, will come to discuss King Phillip's War, the last essay in the book, next week.
We are indeed fortunate. I haven't read much of Howard's work but he writes extremely well, is relevant, and fond of lists. It seems to be a sort of poetic tribute to people. And all about time: 'Before the railrods created Standard Time zones in 1883, and international time zones were adopted the next year, time and place were one. . . . Time became a uniform commodity. Local time is "a relic of antiquity," (p. 130
And about men who stand up for civility (Benjamin Keith): ' "You can't do that here . . . While I know that you mean no harm by it, and only do it from the goodness of your hearts, but others in the audience don't like it and it does not tend to improve the character of the entertainment," He was applauded.' (p. 30)
Without mentioning names, he refers to a local hardware store where you can get just about anything in his essay about the Derby Department store: 'There's a hardware store near me in an old wooden building with narrow aisles packed with stuff, every inch is used. It's like being in a toolbox.' (p.84) it's Edmunds in Antrim of course.
And he's funny! ' "Rumors have some basis in fact; that's how they get started." (p.114)
Howard Mansfield is a local author. My husband regularly runs into him at the local wellness center, and one day came home and asked me to get him a book Mansfield had written. My husband is not a reader, so when he asks to read a book, it is a momentous occasion. I immediately purchased another of Mansfield's books, The Bones of the Earth, which my husband devoured. When Turn and Jump was published, I was sent back to the bookstore to buy a copy of that. I haven't read Bones of the Earth yet, but I just finished this newest one. I really enjoyed it. Mansfield uses local history to illustrate the concept of how our ideas of time and place have changed. His first essay traces the development of how we measure time: first, by the placement of the sun, moon, and stars; next by clocks with each village keeping its own local time; and the eventual standardization of clock time. Along the way, he comments on skills that are lost or changed. Another essay describes the evolution of a store, from a general store to a department store to its demise. The development of vaudeville is described and its relationship to the railroad which gives the book its title. Part of my interest in the book of course comes from the local history aspect, but I've always been interested in how concepts/places have evolved and changed. I am looking forward to reading The Bones of the Earth and other books by Mansfield.
I knew that time zones were created by the railroad companies to simplify train scheduling. Prior to the introduction of discrete time zones, every community had its own local time, based on the sun. What I didn't realize was how strongly people associated their place with their time, or how strongly opposed many people were to the very idea of time zones. We take them so much for granted today that it is hard to understand why they would have been so controversial.
This book is really a collection of essays that presents a social history of the U.S. (well, actually, New England). The common thread through each of these essays is an analysis of the many different ways in which we measure time and how the changes in technology and society have changed the way we understand and perceive time. The rise of the industrial age separated work from the seasonal and weather dependent time keeping of the farmer and tied the workers to a clock. Commerce operates on a time of its own, reflected in the changes from small general stores to department stores to "big box" stores. And while it might seem that we have a long history (especially in New England), if we step back and look at the broader sweep of history, we find that our experiences are nothing but the briefest blip on the scope of human history.
This is a book that, over generations and centuries, ponders the nature, the rhythms of time. Although centered on New Hampshire and rural Massachusetts, where the author found many of his inspirational sources, it speaks to wider cultural changes. Certainly it speaks to American culture, using a storekeeper's diary, a history of water mills and water ecology, the "Old Homestead" play that performed to audiences already experiencing industrial changes. It speaks to gradual changes in economy and industry, and to sudden, wrenching shocks in that history: the 1938 hurricane and flooding; the 1676 slaughter of native people in "King Philip's War" and the economic trauma that followed.
The prose is easy, eloquent, and well suits the material. "The Old Homestead was a time play, it was a clock. Its slow pace was the real story: Look at how slowly time used to pass. We had time to chat. We were barefoot. We did chores. On the stage [the main character] Uncle Josh is a man who owns his time. He does not answer to a clock, to an overseer or foreman. Out in the street, there were time battles, time wars, fights for work and wages."
A wander through history, mostly local New England history with a master storyteller. The final chapter, about King Phillip's War was especially powerful.