"Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities." --Voltaire
Thursday, October 31, 2013
OCD Nightmare
2 comments:
Anonymous
said...
"What sort of thing is our family wealth?— Piles of books arrayed up to the rafters. In my lofty study at dawn I open a volume, And alone share in the words of the sages. Though men superior and wise have lived in every era, We have all esteemed each other's minds. But these bookworms I see on my desk Still far surpass my ordinary companions."
- P'i Jih-hsiu (ca. 833-883), "Reading," tr. William H. Nienhauser
“This typographical consciousness has disappeared now that books are mass-produced for a mass audience. In the eighteenth century they were made by hand. Every sheet of paper was produced individually by an elaborate procedure and differed from every other sheet in the same volume. Every letter, word, and line was composed according to an art that gave the artisan a chance to express his individuality. Books themselves were individuals, each copy possessing its own character. The reader of the Old Regime approached them with care, for he paid attention to the stuff of literature as well as its message. He would finger the paper in order to gauge its weight, translucence, and elasticity (a whole vocabulary existed to describe the esthetic qualities of paper, which usually represented at least half the manufacturing cost of a book before the nineteenth century.) He would study the design of the type, examine the spacing, check the register, evaluate the layout, and scrutinize the evenness of the printing. He would sample a book the way we might taste a glass of wine; for he looked at the impressions on the paper, not merely across them to their meaning. And once he possessed himself fully of a book, in all its physicality, he would settle down to read it.”
- Robert Darnton, The Great Cat Massacre and Other Episodes in French Cultural History
2 comments:
"What sort of thing is our family wealth?—
Piles of books arrayed up to the rafters.
In my lofty study at dawn I open a volume,
And alone share in the words of the sages.
Though men superior and wise have lived in every era,
We have all esteemed each other's minds.
But these bookworms I see on my desk
Still far surpass my ordinary companions."
- P'i Jih-hsiu (ca. 833-883), "Reading," tr. William H. Nienhauser
“This typographical consciousness has disappeared now that books are mass-produced for a mass audience. In the eighteenth century they were made by hand. Every sheet of paper was produced individually by an elaborate procedure and differed from every other sheet in the same volume. Every letter, word, and line was composed according to an art that gave the artisan a chance to express his individuality. Books themselves were individuals, each copy possessing its own character. The reader of the Old Regime approached them with care, for he paid attention to the stuff of literature as well as its message. He would finger the paper in order to gauge its weight, translucence, and elasticity (a whole vocabulary existed to describe the esthetic qualities of paper, which usually represented at least half the manufacturing cost of a book before the nineteenth century.) He would study the design of the type, examine the spacing, check the register, evaluate the layout, and scrutinize the evenness of the printing. He would sample a book the way we might taste a glass of wine; for he looked at the impressions on the paper, not merely across them to their meaning. And once he possessed himself fully of a book, in all its physicality, he would settle down to read it.”
- Robert Darnton, The Great Cat Massacre and Other Episodes in French Cultural History
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