Just Finished Reading: Brolliology – A History of the Umbrella in Life and Literature by Marion Rankine (2017) [157pp] 

I have LONG maintained that anyone born in this country should, as part of their birth heritage, have a lifetime access to two things – a pair of Wellington boots (wellies) and an Umbrella (brolly). Personally, I gave up on brollies some years ago having finally lost yet another one by either leaving it on a bus or tube train or having a gust of wind blow it out of my hand or inside out completely destroying its delicate structure. 

Despite the fact that they seem to be archetypically British, the brolly is nothing of the sort. I was indeed surprised to learn that their first outing on our streets resulted in both anger and hoots of derision when first sported by Jonas Hanway in 18th century London. I knew that they had been around for a LONG time but I had no idea that they’d been around for much longer that I suspected or that their geographical reach was SO wide. Umbrellas, used mostly as parasols rather than rain-shields, have been in existence since civilisation itself from Egypt and the greater Middle East to South-East Asia, China, Japan and elsewhere. They were, by and large, marks of status and you could clearly identify the owners rank from the style, manufacture and even colour of the brolly. Indeed, some classes were effectively banned from using them.  

A particularly interesting aspect of this honestly delightful book was the authors focus on the iconography of the umbrella in literature – both Western and Oriental. Not only was the umbrella a potent symbol in some works but has been a central plot point in others. The act of losing, finding or searching for a lost umbrella crops up in a surprising number of novels (some of which I’ll definitely be hunting down). Sheltering under the protective arms of an umbrella can be the beginning of a romance or infidelity, not owning an umbrella can point to poverty or an absentmindedness that is irritating or endearing. Honestly, I never knew that such a ‘simple’ (actually quite complicated) tool had such cultural and symbolic significance. 

The author obviously has a deep love for this rather mundane object, and her passion certainly shines through in this quirky and delightful work. With illustrations and some of the authors photographs of lost and found umbrellas scattered throughout, I found myself amused, fascinated and intrigued by the subject. A total pleasure and definitely recommended as an unusual and, in many ways, comforting read.