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  • Title: The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám

 

  • Author: Omar Khayyám

 

  • Translator: Edward FitzGerald

 

  • Publisher and Year of Publication: Published by Shakespeare House, New York, in 1951.

 

  • Illustrations: The edition features black-and-white pen and ink drawings by Edmund J. Sullivan (1869–1933), who was a British artist known for his highly detailed work that combines late Victorian/ British traditional illustration and Art Nouveau styles. Sullivan was a prominent book illustrator in the early 20th century, with his first illustrated edition of The Rubáiyát being published in 1913. His illustrations for The Rubáiyát are elaborate and densely detailed, even resembling fine etchings or woodcuts; they are filled with allegorical figures, celestial imagery, and esoteric symbolism. They are also not merely decorative but 

interpretive, adding visual depth to the poetry’s philosophical themes. :D

 

  • Number of Pages: 159

 

  • Edition of FitzGerald Translation: This edition uses Edward FitzGerald’s first edition translation of The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, originally published in 1859. A key identifying feature of this translation is that it contains only 75 quatrains, making it easily distinguishable from FitzGerald’s later editions, which have 101.

 

  • Physical Description: This 1951 edition of The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám presents a striking example of mid-20th-century Western book design; subtly ornamental, and built to last. The book is modestly sized with a distinctive two-tone combination: a buckram-style spine covered in a deep textured material mimicking leather paired with rust-colored cloth boards, the latter textured with a woven like pattern that gives this feeling of traditional binding cloth.  In the lower right corner, there is a gold-stamped medallion depicting Shakespear (a nod to the publisher, Shakespeare House), which is set against a maroon-redish background, which curiously is actual leather, and framed with tiny golden stars. The spine is bordered with a faint golden chevron strip separating the black faux-leather and the cover cloth, which adds quite a tailored touch. The gold-stamped star motifs are also present on the spine, which even though restrained, is a poetic nod to the philosophical and celestial themes.

 

Its rectangular format and left-to-right layout mark it clearly as a Western production, designed to sit flush on a shelf with its spine art displayed outward. The typography inside follows suit, roman numerals for each quatrain, ample spacing, and a clean, formal layout that gives more presence to the text. Or it could be argued that the simplicity of the pages is not to highlight the text, but bring attention to the illustrations. The pages themselves are a creamy ivory, somewhat thick and lightly textured, now slightly yellowed with age. They also carry a gentle aroma of old paper, unmistakably archival (in my opinion). 

 

There is also a “cozy library” aesthetic to this edition. It lacks the extravagant ornamentation seen in other versions of the text; no gilded borders except for the top, no lush floral arabesques, no vibrant colors. This makes it less of a "gift book" meant to dazzle at first sight and more of a collector’s object, a volume intended to be revisited quietly and thoughtfully over time, or to look good in between other books with a similar spine.

 

Highlights: Besides the physical appearance, the  illustrations are the most interesting aspects of this version of The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám. Edmund Sullivan’s illustrations transform FitzGerald’s translation into a fully immersive experience.

 

Here is one of my favorites: 

 

Edmund Sullivan closes the visual journey with an illustration featuring a scene that is tender, quiet, and very symbolic. At the center of the composition, there is a group of young women gathered in a peaceful, outdoor setting (likely a garden). One woman enjoys wine from her goblet as she listens to the music another is playing with their lute. A third reclines on the grass in a posture of relaxed thoughtfulness, also listening. The women are also arranged in a gentle arc, a crescent moon, which represents/ conveys new beginnings.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

But at the edge of the group stands a single woman, with an upright posture and somewhat defeated. She refrains from joining the others in drinking and music, instead, she holds a goblet upside down, which is an unmistakable representation of the final line of the quatrain: "Turn down an empty Glass!". Her gaze is directed almost outward, possibly toward the viewer, giving a subtle sense of awareness, like a knowing nod to those who remain behind. The overall atmosphere is gentle and dreamlike, almost pastoral, all while death looms in the background (one of the trees has a skeletal appearance, hovering over the woman standing). :DDD

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