I never thought I'd say this, but I actually miss setting type.
(Click image to enlarge)

image via Biblioklept

making (local) literature

Last week, I attended a book launch for a new novel that I had a hand in producing. With the production of Dora Dueck's new novel, This Hidden Thing, I was able to put some of my book history theory into practice, as I attempted to match the book's interior/exterior design to the aesthetic sensibility of its audience: an audience whose taste in literary books has been shaped and informed by other literary books. In other words, I had the task of making this book look like a legitimate novel; and with a novel this good --a novel that deserves a wide readership-- I hardly needed any extra motivation. (To learn more about the novel, click here for the news release.)

I should say, first of all, that I'm very pleased with how the book looks and feels. At the launch, someone asked me what font I'd used. Before I even finished saying "Times New Roman" we were both laughing sheepishly. It's a choice that seems too obvious. But it was a decision that was quite carefully thought out. The choice of font was even more significant for me this time around because, during the early stages of this book's production, my studies at U of M had focused on the relationship between aesthetic decisions in book production and the corresponding ideological context. Although I dealt with the relationship through the work of an early modern Venetian printer named Aldus Manutius (in an appeal to his humanist patrons, he was one of the first to use the italic typeface and the first to publish the classics (Virgil, Ovid, etc.) in a pocket-sized (octavo) format), the basic point of correlation is still very useful, especially in book production.

It's been said that the cover of a book is the best advertisement you can make at the level of its production. I mostly agree with this, but, looking at trends in the history of book production, one soon notices that interior design (font, layout, paper, etc.) is also means something to a book's readers (and whether it conveys something "good" or not is often dependent on its continuity with the tradition of literary book production); it is also, in this sense, an advertisement.

Old Books, New Science in action

This semester I've been taking a course on book history and its relationship to the current rise of digital technologies. For the most part it's been a fun, eye-opening seminar that has significantly influenced the way I approach literary texts. Of course, I could spell all of this out; but thanks to our professor's oddly original idea for the class' final exam (a collaborative paper on a Wiki page), I can simply present a link and let you see for yourself.

Ladies and gentlemen: "Old Books, New Science!"

Thus far, I have contributed most of what falls under the heading "Form and Content," and have added a paragraph or two on Roland Barthes (and the relationship between modern notions of authorship and the need for authority in early modern print culture) to the section on "Accessibility and Mystery."

Overall it's been an interesting experience. I've never really had an opportunity to write a collaborative essay and it's amazing how easily it can be done via the wiki we're using. It reminds me a lot of blogging.