Myrtle Reed (Mrs. McCullough) (1874-1911) was an American author, the daughter of Elizabeth Armstrong Reed and the preacher Hiram von Reed. She sometimes wrote under the pseudonym of Olive Green. She was born in Chicago, where she graduated from the West Division High School. In 1906 she was married to James Sydney McCullough. She wrote under her own name, but also published a series of cook books under the pseudonym of Olive Green, including What to Have for Breakfast (1905), One Thousand Simple Soups (1907) and How to Cook Fish (1908). Myrtle was a diagnosed insomniac with prescribed sleeping drafts. She died August 17, 1911 of an overdose of sleeping powder taken with suicidal intent in her flat, called "Paradise Flat" at 5120 Kenmore Ave., Chicago, Illinois. The following day, her suicide letter, written to her maid, Annie Larsen, was published. The author has an amazing sense of humor, sometimes she was being serious or sarcastic. There are some parts which are very true, some which are beautiful, and many which are! The Spinster Book is basically a dating/courtship guide, which very much assumes that one should never, ever attempt to talk to the opposite gender like a normal human being. Indeed, it even seems to suggest that too many friendships with men put a woman in the ‘friend zone’ forever: “To one distinct class of women men tell their troubles and the other class sees that they have plenty to tell. It is better to be in the second category than in the first.” It’s a bit like Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus, but due to being 111 years out of date it’s even more laughable. The chapter titles are a treat in themselves: Notes on Men, Concerning Women, The Philosophy of Love, The Lost Art of Courtship, The Natural History of Proposals, Love Letters: Old and New, An Inquiry into Marriage, The Physiology of Vanity, Widowers and Widows and The Consolations of Spinsterhood, Even in 1901 courtship was considered a ‘lost art’. When precisely were the good old days, anyway? And then there's the advice: “There is nothing in the world so harmless and as utterly joyous as man’s conceit. The woman who will not pander to it is ungracious indeed. Man’s interest in himself is purely altruistic and springs from an unselfish desire to please. - Chapter 1, Notes on Men.