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Gentleman and scholar, diplomat and master painter, Peter Paul Rubens was that rare artist, at home with himself and his society. His orchestrations of the Christian, the mythic and the historical have endured as voluptuous celebrations of human passion and faith. Marking the 400th anniversary of his birth, Rubens by Frans Baudouin (Abrams; 405 pages; $60) pays rich tribute to the Flemish master with a gallery of 278 illustrations and a meticulous text tracing his stylistic development and the temper of his times.
"Playful physics" was the way René Magritte somewhat disdainfully characterized the trompe 1'oeil style of painting. But the term could apply to his own oblique surrealism. Rings plunging through pianos, airborne castles, flaming keys and animated bottles are all part of the artist's whimsical, gravity-free universe. Magritte: Ideas and Images by Harry Torczyner (Abrams; 277 pages; $45) provides an opulent but ambiguous visual festival. The artist, half magician, half charlatan, paints with paperback Freud insights and melodramatic compositions so calculating that he sometimes makes Norman Rockwell appear primitive. Yet in the midst of a darkened landscape, Magritte can mysteriously illuminate the sky: on an ominous day he makes it rain identical men in bowler hats, as impassive and relentless as Kafka's bureaucrats. In such works the conjurer celebrates and mourns the human condition and shows why, despite his shortcomings and the shiftings of fashion, he remains a perennial favorite of connoisseurs as well as crowds.
The only thing that will turn a man's head faster than a passing pretty girl is an antique car moving majestically down the slow lane on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Duesenberg, Auburn, Cord, Marmon, Stutz, Fierce-Arrow and Franklin have the glamour of old movie stars—and are usually better preserved. The value of these classics now runs into six figures. American Classic Cars by Henry Rasmussen (Picturama/Schocken; unpaged; $24.50) allows the subcompact set to relive the golden age of the luxury automobile. A look at masterpieces as rare as a glimpse of Garbo.
Train buffs may rush out to buy Rails of the World (David R. Godine; 406 pages; $75) only to find that its subject is not choochoos but birds—members of the family Rallidae, including rails, coots and gallinules. No matter. It is impossible to be disappointed by this handsome book. Smithsonian Institution Secretary S. Dillon Ripley has brought his ornithological expertise and years of patient watching to bear on these elusive creatures. The 41 color paintings by J. Fenwick Lansdowne are reproduced so sharply that light seems to glance off eyes and feathers. Ripley furnishes all the required taxonomy for experts—and some doleful news for everyone. Because they fly poorly, these birds are easy prey for predators. Their preferred nesting sites—marshes and coastal wetlands—are being drained by progress. Some recently extinct species can now only be seen in places like Rails of the World.